


After the Rain

by LadyDeb



Series: Birthright [11]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Spooks | MI-5, Stonehenge Apocalypse (2010), Supernatural, Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Second Chances, The Year That Never Was, aliens are easy to accept once you accept demons, building Bulwark, fixing Spooks' season nine, not especially Mary-friendly, pro-John, protecting others is still the family business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-07 14:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1902117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDeb/pseuds/LadyDeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Birthright series:  Three souls are granted a second chance at life.  Fortunately, all three have some experience with protecting others.  They'll need it if they're going to assist Torchwood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue:  The Time Weaver's Request

**Author's Note:**

> Here begins another story in the Birthright series. I anticipate it being at most four chapters, but we all know that’s up for debate. There will be characters from several fandoms in this story: Torchwood (Ianto, Suzie and Tosh, and Jack will make a special appearance); Stonehenge Apocalypse (Jacob Glasser, and believe me, his ‘resemblance’ to a particular angel will not be glossed over); and Supernatural (John and Mary Winchester, with references to other characters therein). So. I will only say this once. If you don’t like John Winchester, if you buy into the abusive John meme, hit the back button now. This is a pro-John story, and while I wouldn’t say it’s anti-Mary, I will be very honest and say I have more respect for John than I do for her. I won’t bash her. I just won’t turn her into some sort of a saint.

Disclaimer: Captain Jack Harkness, Suzie Costello, Toshiko Sato, Ianto Jones and _Torchwood_ don’t belong to me … they belong to the BBC, Starz Studios, and Russell T. Davies. Which is a shame, because I think I take better care of them. John and Mary Winchester and all things _Supernatural_ also don’t belong to me, they are the property of Eric Kripke. Rassilon belongs to the BBC and whoever first created _Doctor Who_. Jacob Glasser belongs to Syfy and whoever wrote _Stonehenge Apocalypse_. Boromir belongs to JRR Tolkien. Everyone else is mine. Don’t mind if you borrow them, just ask first and return them intact.

 

 

Prologue

 

 

The Time Weaver’s Request

 

 

Former Colasanto Compound, Nevada

August 2012

 

 

“Lord President Rassilon. I wish to ask a boon!”

Well. That was interesting. It had been years since he heard a request phrased in that way, and it was even longer since he heard from a Child of Kronos. That was what they called themselves when interacting with humans, implying they were associated with the ancient Greek Titan. In truth, they were far more ancient than that … far more ancient than humanity. In truth, they were cousins of the Time Lords and in some ways, forerunners of the Time Agency. Rassilon always called them Time Weavers, for they took the threads of one timeline and wove it into another. More to the point, the Children created Champions. Decent men who often made terrible mistakes, but gave their lives to atone … and yet, still had so much to give.

The greatest success story among the Champions was the warrior born as Boromir of Gondor, who was revived and placed in a nearly-identical universe to this one, but thousands upon thousands of years in the future. Only those he loved most knew the truth about his identity (such as his wife Megan). To all others, he was Michael Rafferty, the handsome amnesiac who took his wife’s name when they married because he couldn’t remember his own.

And now, a Child called to him for a boon, which meant that she wanted to bring a Champion into this universe. Interesting. Very interesting. Rassilon looked around at his own Children of Time … Suzie was preparing to go to Liam’s office to drop off the latest acquisition forms (and hopefully, that was _all_ she was planning to do … then again, she and Liam had gotten better about keeping their trysts out of his office after the last time Lily caught them); Ianto was going over the inventory from the most recent deliveries; while Tosh was … Tosh was cackling to herself as she viewed something on her tablet. Rassilon decided he didn’t want to know. She frightened him when she started cackling like that.

Koschei had been temporarily banned from tormenting Olivia Colasanto after her cousin Phil discovered her on the SHIELD helicarrier. Rassilon allowed himself a small smile as he remembered the confrontation between Liam and Koschei after the young lawyer learned that his older sister was alive. Who knew that younger siblings were just as protective as elder ones? Rassilon thought about his youngest child, who was fiercely protective of his older ‘brother,’ the Doctor, and conceded that it wasn’t so strange. What did surprise him (and this was a legitimate surprise) was Koschei backing down. The former Master told Rassilon that it was long past time for him to go pester the Doctor.  

The summons came again, and this time, Rassilon received a name. Most of the Time Weavers were women, although some of the more recent additions were men. Again, the girl called, “Lord President Rassilon, your humble petitioner Valkyrie begs your indulgence on behalf of three souls.” Now things were getting _very_ interesting. He walked out of the house after checking on his children one last time and walked into the Rift. There he found a young woman, around the same age as Ianto Jones. She was a pretty little thing, with long golden hair and bright blue eyes. Valkyrie. He could see why the ancient Norse warriors named her thus. She smiled as he appeared and made a small bow, saying, “Lord Rassilon. I ask you to accept three souls. One I know to be deserving, and two who may be deserving.”

“Speak, child,” Rassilon told her with a small smile. He was departing from protocol here, but really, none of the pomp and circumstance was necessary here. He was not on Gallifrey, and he was no longer the Lord President in truth. Besides, when the girl relaxed ever so slightly, he knew that he had done the right thing. She was in an awkward transition period … much younger than her sisters, who remembered the old ways, but much older than the recent Weavers. The Weaver who called herself Valkyrie straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. Rassilon braced himself for a tirade, something many of the in-between Weavers did.

Instead, the girl blurted out, “I want you to give Jacob Glasser, John Winchester and Mary Winchester a place among your Champions.” Rassilon blinked, and Valkyrie turned bright red with embarrassment. She swallowed hard and started over, saying, “Jacob is the one I was telling you about, the one who is deserving. He was a scientist in his own dimension, in his own universe, who sacrificed his life to save the world. I was … I was able to take him before his body was obliterated, so he’s presumed dead in his home dimension. They found no body.”

That being said, Valkyrie lifted her head up and Rassilon smiled to himself, placing his palm against the girl’s forehead, in a manner similar to a benediction. However, the resemblance ended there, as he leaned his forehead against his hand … and her memories flowed into him. He Saw this young man Jacob through the years, and his decision was made long before the boy sacrificed himself. Jacob Glasser had a home in this dimension. Not with Rassilon himself, but Alicia Yates’ Bulwark was growing by leaps and bounds, and before too much longer, she would need people to go out into the world. Not field agents, no … just people who could travel to Torchwood and UNIT’s equivalents in other countries. Jacob Glasser would be excellent for such a venture. He was tempted to have Jacob assigned to the dimension where humans co-existed with Cybertronians, but the boy was needed here … not there.

He felt the girl’s relief, and the second set of memories flowed into him … this time, the memories of Mary Campbell Winchester. He wasn’t immediately impressed with her. Oh, he could easily forgive her making a deal with a demon after the murder of her mother and fiancé, all the while knowing that her father was as good as dead. But what he found much harder to forgive was her negligence toward her husband and two sons. Her death launched the three of them into a world they didn’t understand and never knew existed. He accepted her on probation. She would have to prove herself to him. Hunting was a life that was never truly left, and Samuel Campbell should have made his daughter aware of that.

And finally, he received the memories of John Winchester, Mary’s husband, who went from being a Marine, a husband and a father, to a Hunter. In some ways, John Winchester reminded Rassilon of himself … many of his decisions were questionable, but one thing Rassilon couldn’t question, didn’t dare question, was his love for his sons and his desire to keep them both safe from the thing that murdered his wife. He, too, would be accepted by Rassilon on probation, but his would be a limited probation, having more to do with how he picked up what Alicia was trying to do. John Winchester did what was necessary … he stepped up to the plate, and did what was necessary, despite the cost. Alicia would have need of men such as him.

Both Weaver and Lord opened their eyes at the same time, and Rassilon said simply, “I accept these souls. In fact, I have a place for all three of them. And, I have conditions.” Valkyrie nodded so hard, he thought her head would come off her shoulders, and Rassilon outlined what those conditions were. He would need assistance from both Ianto and Jack, but he didn’t think that would be an issue. Ianto could create documents for the three of them, but Rassilon would need Jack’s contacts in the UK to make this work. He resolved to call his son as soon as he returned to Nevada.

“Your conditions are accepted with gratitude, my Lord. Their bodies … what will you do about the bodies of the Winchesters?” Valkyrie asked hesitantly. Hmm. That was a very good question. Rassilon searched through the world he now inhabited, trying to ascertain the fates of the counterparts of John and Mary Winchester. What he discovered made his eyes widen with surprise. Well. He wasn’t one to believe in fate, but this was certainly a happy accident. For John and Mary, that is. Not so much for their counterparts. Both suffered traumatic brain injury during the Miracle … their bodies were simply empty shells. Their families no longer came to visit, but they couldn’t bring themselves to turn off the machines, either. Well, well, well. The damnable Miracle would actually prove to be useful.

He smiled at Valkyrie benignly and said, “I have suitable replacements.” He really didn’t want to have to go into the future and get more lifelike mannequins, like the one used to replace Ianto Jones for his funeral. Attempts to place a human soul into said mannequins was iffy at best. Valkyrie offered him a relieved smile. He noticed that she didn’t ask how they would place the souls into the new bodies. Good. He absolutely hated those explanations. Instead, he went on, “Bring Jacob to me first, and then while he is recuperating among my children, I will bring the new bodies to you.” He wished he said that differently … it didn’t sound nearly as ghoulish in his head. However, Valkyrie merely inclined her head.

“It shall be done, my lord. And my lord? Thank you,” she replied, before disappearing. Rassilon slowly exhaled and returned to Nevada, passing the Rift Guardians as he did. Back at the house, Suzie was still gone … Tosh was working in the garden … while Ianto was reading. Rassilon cleared his throat and the boy looked up, putting the book to one side. As yet, Jack still didn’t know that his former was alive once more, and for now, it had to stay that way. Thus, he rearranged his tasks in his mind quickly.

He told his Child, “I have tasks for you, youngling. First, I need you to call Alicia Yates. Tell her that I’ll be bringing three new people for Bulwark, and that details will follow. After that’s done, I need you to create documents for three people: Jacob Glasser … that’s J-a-c-o-b G-l-a-s-s-e-r. Yes. Exactly. The other two are John and Mary Winchester. When Suzie gets back, I’ll need her help. The last thing any of us need is for Liam Grady to have a nervous breakdown when he sees John’s new body. They say everyone has a double in the world … Liam doesn’t need to see that first hand.”

The boy was nodding and pulling up the software he would need to get that started before the Time Lord even finished speaking. Rassilon looked out the windows, thinking of everything the three new Bulwark operatives would need in their new world. He could have Tosh do that later … no sense in Ianto being distracted while he was putting their documents together. For now, however, he needed to call his son. It had been six weeks since he and Captain Rogers took down Theodore Paige and his pathetic little ring, and Rassilon wanted to make sure that his son was all right. Jack always came back from his deaths, but that wasn’t what Rassilon needed to know. He needed to know that his son was _all right_.

 

TBC


	2. Crossing the Threshold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, in this chapter, we have our three new Champions starting their new lives. The first section is Jacob reacting to being alive; second section will be Mary; third section is John. And I’ll admit now, the relationship that develops between Ianto and John kinda took me by surprise … but at the same time, I kinda like it, too. The next chapter will have them choosing their new paths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, because I’m just as backward as ever, a happy belated Fourth of July to my fellow Americans, and happy belated Canada Day to our northern neighbors. Oh, and because despite my attempts to pretend otherwise, I *am* a fangirl, and John Barrowman’s new album is fantastic! Still working out which is my favorite song (although, I play Loch Lomond over and over again), but wow. Absolutely love it.

Former Colasanto Compound, Nevada

August 2012

Two Earth Weeks Later

 

 

This really wasn’t what he expected of his afterlife. Admittedly, he didn’t ever really think about an afterlife, much less what one would entail, but lying on a cloud-soft bed as a gentle hand stroked his hair didn’t come immediately to mind. He also didn’t think it likely that the hand belonged to Kaycee. It didn’t quite seem to be her style. He was proven right when a nearby female voice said rather tartly, “I didn’t realize we were in the business of taking in strays all of a sudden, Rassilon.” That startled Jacob enough to force his eyes open. A beautiful Japanese girl sat at his side, smiling self-consciously as her hand stopped in mid-stroke.

“Ah, Suzie, didn’t you get the memo? We’re _all_ strays. I’m half-tempted to bark sometimes, just to see how Rassilon would react. I know how Koschei would react … he’d pat me on the head or scratch me behind my ears. Dr. Glaser’s just another addition,” a young man observed from a nearby table. The young man offered him a shy smile, observing, “Welcome to our odd little family, Doctor. My name is Ianto Jones … you have Toshiko Sato at your side … and the snark queen is Suzie Costello.” Jacob’s attention moved from the beauty at his side to Ianto (Welsh? He thought so) to a beautiful woman standing just beyond Ianto. She flapped her hand at him as greeting, and Jacob returned his attention to Ianto, who added with a small smile, “And in case you’re wondering, you’re not dead. Just in an alternate dimension.”

“Quite right, my boy. I’m glad to see you’re awake, Jacob. And I’m sure that you have many questions that need answering. First, and most importantly, as Ianto said … you’re not dead. You’re very much alive, and you are in … well, I’m not sure if I’d said an alternate dimension. Think of this more of a parallel universe,” another man said, entering Jacob’s line of sight. Parallel universe? Was it possible that he was transported here when … when he thought he died? That didn’t make any sense, but right now, not many things did make sense. Including how he died. Even though he didn’t die. And as for the Rassilon that ‘Suzie’ had been speaking to when he first started regaining consciousness, he could have anywhere from his mid-fifties upward. Jacob reflected a bit ruefully that Rassilon looked like he could have been Jacob’s own father … he was dark-haired and blue-eyed, with a cleft in his chin (well, not that part so much). He spoke with an upper-class British accent that wasn’t so different from the one Jacob heard from Kaycee Leeds. Jacob swallowed hard as he thought about Kaycee.

Thus, his first question wasn’t about his new surroundings. It wasn’t even about how he got here, or any normal thing like that. He’d never been normal a day in his life, why would he start now? Instead, he asked, “Did it work?” Ianto, Suzie, and Tosh all looked at each other, as if asking each other if they knew what he was talking about. Not that it mattered … Jacob wasn’t talking to them. He didn’t know how he knew it, but his instincts told him that Rassilon (what kind of name was that, anyhow?) was the man who knew the most about what happened to him, including how and why he was brought here. There was a small smile on the other man’s face and Jacob repeated, “Did it work?” It was a fair question, really.

“Your world is safe, Jacob, including your Dr. Leeds. Everything is fine,” Rassilon promised and Jacob sighed, relaxing back against the pillows. Rassilon went on, “I apologize, that should have been my first priority … telling you that your world is safe. Now, as to everything else … as I said, you’re in a parallel universe. Your sacrifice was noted and rewarded with a second chance in another universe.” Oh. That was … good. He thought. Rassilon went on, “I brought you here five days ago … my Children of Time took care of your leg, while I kept you unconscious. It … was better for everyone.”

That, Jacob didn’t doubt. Being shot hurt like hell, and while his leg throbbed, it was a manageable level of pain, especially now that he didn’t have the bonus of adrenaline and fear to push him forward. He asked finally, “You … you said that my sacrifice was noted and rewarded with a second chance, in this universe. A second chance to do what?” Not that he was really complaining, mind. Really, he wasn’t. He didn’t mind the possibility of a second chance at all. It was just … what would be asked of him, in return for his second chance? What price would he pay for this? Nothing in life came free, and anyone who said otherwise was just selling something. Jacob asked, “What do you want from me, to earn this second chance?”

“Oh, child,” Rassilon sighed, “you’ve _already_ earned that second chance. There is nothing you have to do to earn it. Is there a particular reason you were brought to me? Yes. But that can wait. You need to rest and recover. And while I have specific ideas for you, the choice is ultimately yours. However … I have a feeling you’ll find my ideas interesting. That can wait, young man.” Jacob was on the point of protesting, but a jaw-cracking yawn prevented him from speaking. Rassilon chuckled and lay the back of his hand against Jacob’s forehead, murmuring, “Sleep, child.   There will be time to talk. There will be more than enough time to …” Jacob never heard the rest of the sentence. He was already asleep.

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

 

The last thing she really remembered with any clarity was finding Azrael in her baby boy’s nursery … burning on the ceiling as John tried to save her, not that he could. There were other, less distinct memories … seeing her boys as adults, now Hunters themselves. She never wanted that, not for her babies. Not for her Dean and Sam, not even for John. But when she burned on the ceiling … and Mary Campbell Winchester stopped. She was dead … and now she was alive. She wasn’t in Heaven, she wasn’t in Hell, she was alive. Mary wrapped her arms around herself, glancing around the room. Was she a prisoner or a guest? Staying here, she wouldn’t find out, but there were dangers to leaving as well. Such as, she didn’t know where exactly she was. Even so, she was Mary Campbell Winchester, and she lost too much already by being afraid. At the very least, she could do a sweep of the room

The door opened and Mary whirled to face whoever was entering, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. The newcomer raised her hands, saying softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you … the last time I checked on you, you were still asleep. My name is Suzie Costello, and you’re in Nevada. The year is 2012.” Mary numbly noted that the woman spoke with a British accent, and that … wait. 2012. She said that it was 2012. Mary sat down on the bed … there was a bed? Oh. Yeah. She remembered waking up as sun streamed through a window, and her nightgown had been replaced with pajamas. And the year was 2012, which meant that … which meant that her baby boy was twenty-nine. Mary could have wept.

The woman … Suzie … continued, “I’m sure you have a lot of questions. The first thing you need to know is, you’re no longer in your home dimension.” Mary looked up at the woman, startled, and Suzie continued, “You were brought here, because your life was cut short in your own dimension, and it was judged that you still had more to give. You were raised as a Hunter, which will give you a somewhat more open mind about what I do … what we do.” Mary cringed, but couldn’t help looking at the woman curiously. Suzie added, “I … we … protect the Earth from aliens who would do us harm. By the same token, we also protect benign aliens from humans who are either misguided or evil. Usually evil, but not exclusively.”

Well, that made … aliens? Suzie confirmed with a small smile, “Aliens. You spent the early part of your life, watching your father and mother go up against demons and other supernatural entities, is it really so hard to believe that aliens exist as well?” Well, put like that … The newcomer’s smile brightened, ever so slightly, and she continued, “I have your clothes here … at least, I’m guessing that you’d rather meet Lord Rassilon in regular clothes, as opposed to pyjamas.” Mary looked down at herself … while the pajamas were definitely preferable to the white nightgown she died in, street clothes were even better. And Lord Rassilon? Was she in the home of some eccentric English lord? If so, what sort of name was Rassilon? Suzie observed, “Whatever questions you have, and I’m sure you have many, he can answer.”

With that said, she extended her arms with the clothes in them. Mary asked slowly, “I’m guessing that you know my sizes … do I want to know how you know my size?” The corners of Suzie’s mouth quirked, and Mary glared at her balefully, before snatching the clothes out of the Englishwoman’s arms. Suzie merely laughed, before sauntering out of the room. Of course she left the final question unanswered, along with the question of just who dressed her in the pajamas. That could wait. All of it could wait. Right now, Mary needed to get dressed … and then she needed some answers.

Within five minutes, she was dressed and opening the door … only to find Suzie in front of the door once more, smirking. Mary once more glowered at Suzie, who only looked more amused, and said, “If you’ll follow me? I’ll take you to Lord Rassilon. In case you’re wondering, that’s not his real title … well, it is, but at the same time, it isn’t.” Well, that was just as clear as mud! Suzie observed, “You’ll understand when you meet him. Rassilon isn’t human.” Mary stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. Rassilon … wasn’t human. Mary shook herself, told herself to get a grip, and began following Suzie once more.

As they walked, Suzie explained, “The actual owner of the property lives in Oklahoma. Her name is Natalie Tregarth. She inherited the property from Angelo Colasanto, the original owner. This is the cottage where he and his wife lived while the main building was being built.” Cottage? If a two-story house was a cottage, she was interested in seeing what the main building looked like. That could wait, though. Suzie went on, “The main house is now a … well, a sanctuary. That was Natalie’s decision. From what Angelo’s grandson has told me, it sounds like she did what he hoped she would do.”

“What kind of sanctuary?” Mary couldn’t help but ask as she drew up beside Suzie. At the same time, she was peering over the edge of the railing. There were two people working hard at a table below her, a woman and a man. They were passing papers back and forth, and while Mary couldn’t hear what they were saying, it was pretty obvious to her that they were collaborating on something. It brought back memories, memories that Mary shoved back with a ruthlessness that surprised her. But it was a distraction, and she couldn’t afford distractions right now.

“That … is a long story. And it’s something else Rassilon will explain to you. He may be a bit stroppy … he was supposed to call his son when you and the others were brought here, but we’ve had one issue after another during the last few weeks,” Suzie answered. A son. Mary filed that away as useful information … and nearly walked into Suzie. The British woman said quietly, her dark eyes boring into Mary’s own eyes, “And just so you know … using the knowledge that Rassilon has a son? Bad idea. The last person who tried to mess with Jack? Well, let’s just say she’ll be regretting it for a very, _very_ long time.”

Mary’s hackles rose and she snapped, “I don’t use other people’s children!” Suzie merely lifted an eyebrow, before turning and stalking away. Mary swallowed hard, wondering what the hell that was all about, and then followed her odd companion to a room … or maybe an office … at the end of the hall. Suzie rapped lightly on the door, and a masculine voice bid them to enter. Suzie opened the door and all but shoved Mary inside, before closing the door behind her. Mary briefly considered cussing out the high-handed woman, but her desire for answers outweighed her irritation with the other woman.

Instead, she turned her attention to the man in the room. He offered her a small smile and said with an elegant British accent, “Please, do sit down. You’ve adapted to your new body far better than I anticipated.” Her what? Mary’s legs unexpectedly gave way and she sat down hard in the nearest chairs, staring at this Rassilon all the way. He was a handsome older man … or whatever he was. She whispered ‘ _Christo_ ’ under her breath, and Rassilon merely looked exasperated, saying, “I’m a Time Lord, child, not a demon. Then again, that’s part of what this conversation is for. I am Rassilon, first among Time Lords and former Lord President of Gallifrey. However, now the title I’m proudest of holding is father to Captain Jack Harkness.”

Suzie referenced Rassilon’s son, but Mary’s mind was still catching up with the reset of Rassilon’s introduction, and she asked, “Time Lords? Gallifrey?” Suzie said that he wasn’t human. But … Time Lords? And this wasn’t her original body? She thought again of her death, and realized that of course it wasn’t. That begged the question … actually, it begged several questions, but chief among them was the question she asked next, “And if this isn’t my body, then whose body is it?” She saw her reflection in the mirror, and it hadn’t changed drastically.

“It’s your body now. It originally belonged to your counterpart here in this universe. Her name wasn’t Mary Campbell Winchester, if you’re interested,” Rassilon offered. Mary barely heard him through the roaring of blood in her ears. Her counterpart. She was using someone else’s body. She was using someone else’s body, she’d been turned into a body snatcher. Mary was in danger of hyper-ventilating, because _oh God_ , she was no better than the demon who took her father and murdered her mother and John!

A pair of hands gripped her shoulders and Rassilon said through the roaring, “Breathe, Mary!” There was a muffled curse, and then a stinging pain in her cheek. The shock of being slapped broke through her panic, and she found Rassilon peering at her anxiously. She blinked her eyes a few times, and the man/Time Lord/whatever he was smiled with obvious relief. He said softly, “I do apologize, child. This is the first time I’ve had such a conversation with a human, and forgot the connotations. Now, if you would stay calm for just a few minutes, I’ll explain. Several months ago, there was a situation on this planet where no one on Earth died.”

What? At first blush, it sounded wonderful. No one died, no one ever lost someone they loved. She had only to think about the loss of her parents and temporary loss of John. But the more Mary thought about it, the more it sounded like the stuff of nightmares. Rassilon went on, “The woman … your counterpart in this universe … she was involved in a horrific accident early in what was wrongly called the Miracle. Her body survived, but her brain … she was brain-dead, an empty shell that even after the Miracle ended, her family couldn’t bear to let go. By the same token, they couldn’t bring themselves to visit her any longer.”

Mary finally asked hoarsely, “There was no hope for her?” Rassilon shook his head sadly, and the formerly-dead Huntress asked, “How can you be so sure? Doctors don’t know everything, after all.” For some reason, that struck Rassilon funny, because he rocked back on his heels and laughed … literally shook with laughter. Mary just stared at him in shock, growing more and more confused by this very strange individual. At last, however, Rassilon stopped laughing and patted her hand in a fatherly manner that should have irritated her but didn’t. She didn’t know if it was the instincts she developed while growing up in a Hunting family, but those instincts were screaming at her that Rassilon was far older than she realized.

“I apologize, dear child. I will explain the reason for my mirth at a later date. For now, you wanted answers … and it’s long past time I provided those answers to you. In truth, you were resurrected and brought to this universe as a second chance. You will listen to what I have to say, and then when you’re ready, you’ll decide what you want to do with that second chance. I’m afraid I cannot return you to your sons. But … you’ve not lost your entire family. Shall I tell you more?” Rassilon asked. Mary needed no time to think about it. She wasn’t sure what she would do with this ‘second chance,’ but she couldn’t make that decision without more information. With that quick nod, Rassilon smiled at her approvingly and she had the oddest sense that she just passed a test.

 

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

 

In the years since his wife was murdered and demon blood was dripped into his baby’s mouth, John Winchester experienced some truly strange things. So strange, in fact, that waking up in a comfortable bed should have been the least strange that ever happened. _Should have_ _been_ was the key phrase. But considering his last clear memory was of being in Hell … he thought he could be forgiven for being suspicious. And a lack of resources never stopped John in the past. Thus, when a young man entered the room with an armful of clothes, John flung a glass of water into his face, growling, “Christo!”

The young man merely placed the clothes on the dresser, removed a handkerchief from inside his vest and answered in a rather droll tone, “Gesundheit.” John blinked in shock, and the young man continued in the exact same tone, “Are you satisfied now that I’m not a demon, Mr. Winchester?” John could only nod in astonishment, and from that less than auspicious start, a tentative and rather unexpected friendship grew. At least, the seeds of a friendship. John had no illusions about himself, knew he could be an ornery, suspicious bastard at the best of times, but the young man, whose name was ‘Ianto,’ didn’t seem to mind.

That was nearly a week earlier. He learned from his new friend that he was in a parallel world, and the year was 2012. The year wasn’t so hard to believe … being in a parallel world? That took some getting used to. The air smelled the same … everything seemed the same, but countless searches on the laptop Ianto so kindly provided him regarding the burning of their house in Lawrence resulted in zero results. It was at that point that John began to actually take this parallel world concept seriously.

And once he started taking it seriously, he began to ask Ianto (the person he saw most often) questions, and the boy shared what he knew. Ianto claimed to know everything, and while John was automatically suspicious of people who claimed to know everything or nothing, the kid was terrifyingly knowledgeable. In some ways, he reminded John of Sam … and in other ways, he reminded him of Dean. But if he was in a parallel world, the chances were good that he’d never see his sons again, and so he tried not to dwell on whatever similarities existed between Ianto and either of his boys.

According to his new friend, John, along with two others, were brought into this parallel world to be given second chances as Champions. Ianto either didn’t know or wouldn’t tell John who the other two were, and for now, John would let it go. Besides, the explanation of what a Champion was what really interested him at this point. He learned that Champions were flawed but decent human beings who often made horrific errors in judgment, and then died to atone for them. Their lives were cut short in what was often what Ianto phrased a ‘ _fixed point in time and space_ ’ (and John would get further explanation on that later) … but some greater power deemed that they still had more to give.

In John’s case, as well as the other two, Ianto explained, their task involved assisting a woman in the UK named Alicia Yates, who was creating a network to assist the alien defense organizations of the world. Aliens. He had wanted to tell the young man that there was no such thing as aliens. However, after spending the last two decades of his life going up against demons and worse, John wisely kept his mouth shut. He knew he could be an abrasive son of a bitch, but there was abrasive, and then there was just plain stupid.

Instead, he listened as Ianto told him about Alicia and her Bulwark, about UNIT and about Torchwood. It took him very little time to realize that Ianto was Torchwood. For one thing, he was entirely too knowledgeable about the way the organization worked. For another, there was an undercurrent of disdain when he spoke of UNIT. He was curious about why that disdain existed, but for now, it wasn’t his business. Understanding why Ianto had little use for UNIT was a curiosity, not something he needed to know and not something that might place his life in danger, at least not at this point. Now, if that situation changed or someone else was endangered … but they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

In truth, he really liked the idea of this Bulwark. While Hunters tended to be lone wolves, he could see where something like Bulwark would be necessary. And given Ianto’s stories about the last few years (including this so-called Miracle), he really liked the idea of average people not just being aware of the threat, but actively helping to neutralize it. Not by fighting, but in other ways. And speaking of the poorly-named Miracle … holy crap, that sounded like something a demon would dream up … oh, he knew that it was conceived entirely by human beings. John also knew from painful experience that sometimes, the absolutely worst monsters were human beings.

He made this observation to Ianto, and was surprised to see a flash of pain in the boy’s eyes. Ianto merely answered that the line between monster and human was surprisingly hard to see at times. John was sure that there was a story there, but again, as long as it didn’t put his life, or the lives of those whom he would be protecting, at risk … he really didn’t see it as any of his business. After a moment, Ianto admitted that he once lobbed that particular accusation at someone who eventually became very dear to him. True, he was extremely upset (read: heartbroken), but that didn’t make the accusation any more true. Suffice it to say, Ianto added, that it was one of those rare times when he was wrong. This man was no monster and didn’t deserve to be called one. Not really knowing what to say, John said nothing … choosing instead to squeeze the young man’s shoulder. It was evidently the right thing to not say, because Ianto flashed him a grateful smile, before going over John’s new documents.

Another day, Ianto gave him the rundown on the property where they were staying. They were in Nevada, John learned, although Ianto was a little vague on where exactly in Nevada they were. John thought about pointing out that Nevada was a rather large state, but decided it fell into the same category … not something he really needed to know. Although, he was getting a bit curious as to why he was only allowed to go the bathroom and nowhere else in the house. His meals were brought to his room, and in truth, he was starting to climb the walls just a bit. Ianto told him that he wasn’t permitted to leave his room until Rassilon called for him … and since the door locked from the outside (convenient), the only alternative was to rush Ianto.

John supposed he could have, but it was unnecessary. And really, after all the years he and the boys spent on the road, after the hell all three of them experienced, was it really so bad to just rest a while? He wasn’t a young man any more, and given the way he’d lived for the last few years before the deal to save Dean, he felt older than his fifty-three years. Besides, even if he got past Ianto (an iffy proposition), where would he go? Sure, he could steal a car, but who was to say that this Nevada was the same as his? No, he needed more information, and the best source of that information was Ianto, and his conversation with this Rassilon would provide more.

And he didn’t know much about Rassilon, whoever he was. He wasn’t the owner of the house. Ianto told him that. The owner was a young woman in Oklahoma, but Rassilon had permission to live here. Or something like that. Ianto was deliberately vague about that. The one piece of information which Ianto could and did provide him about their mysterious host was that he was a father … he was the father of Ianto’s special person. John smiled to himself, remembering the look of shock on Ianto’s face when the Marine worked out that Ianto’s special someone was a man. His name was Jack, John knew, and he was the most extraordinary, exasperating individual Ianto ever met (hmm, that sounded familiar. Who did John know who met that description?). He was also the first and only man Ianto ever had feelings for.

The boy was more than a little shocked, not only that John figured it out, but by his lack of reaction. John opted to keep him guessing, at least for now. Ianto had his secrets … John had his own. On the sixth day after his awakening, Ianto came to his room, his bright eyes sparkling with mischief. Oh, this looked to get interesting. The young man said quietly, “It’s time for you to meet with Rassilon. Just … be ready to have all of your preconceptions blown to hell, all right?” John just responded with a sidelong glance which made Ianto laugh. John grinned and followed the Welshman from the room.

They were, as John noted in the past, on the second floor … but now he could see that the hallway around the second floor was in fact a balcony. He watched a young man sitting beside a lovely Japanese girl, paying close attention to whatever she was showing him … across the table from them sat another dark-haired woman. Something drew her attention to John and Ianto, and he could actually see her jolt back in her seat, as if she was surprised by something. Ianto actually snickered, and the woman responded with the European equivalent of the finger. That only made Ianto laugh. John just shook his head, smiling a little. In a way, he wished he would be spending more time here. He thought he would enjoy being around this odd little family. And they _were_ a family, even if they didn’t know it. What was it that Bobby always used to say? Right … family didn’t end with blood.

But his attention was drawn back to Ianto as the younger man stopped in front of a door, and through that door laid the key to the rest of John’s life, however long that might be. Ianto raised his eyebrows, inquiring without words if John was ready. The former Hunter took a deep breath and nodded. Ianto pushed open the door and John crossed the threshold. Inside the room, a tall, dark-haired man rose to his feet and said, ‘Welcome, John Winchester. I have a proposition for you.” John merely smiled. He would listen, would let the man make his sales pitch. And then he had questions.

 

TBC


	3. Worth Saving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rassilon and John discuss their children; Jacob continues to try to fit in; while Mary and Suzie continue to battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hate it when I stare at a nearly blank document, and … nothing’s there. Of course, that’s when it’s time to step back, look at what I’ve written … and start over. (Or, if I’ve written it by hand, start marking things out or rip it out of my notebook and throw it away). I originally planned to have the group on their way to England, if not there already, but John threw me a curve ball. (And yes, he’s smirking at me triumphantly) So, I decided to listen to the Marine, which was one of my wiser ideas lately. I’ve actually had the conversation about Castiel in mind ever since I first got the idea … I just had an opportunity to use it before I anticipated.

Colasanto Compound, Nevada

A few weeks later

 

 

Rassilon steepled his fingers in front of him as he re-read the most recent email from Alicia, humming a little under his breath. She didn’t quite have things ready for Jacob, Mary and John yet … she needed a little more time. That was fine. Much to Rassilon’s surprise (and secret delight), John formed an interesting bond with Ianto, while Jacob and Tosh spent a great deal of time. Mary was the only one who seemed to keep herself apart … in fact, she and Suzie actively disliked each other. Early in the week, the tag team of Tosh and Koschei had to pull the two apart. Rassilon was sure that it was as much for Suzie’s sake as Mary’s … Suzie had a habit of pushing the American woman’s buttons, while forgetting that she was raised by a Hunter.

In some ways, Rassilon thought he understood. John Winchester looked as if he could have been Liam’s older brother, and while Suzie didn’t love the youngest Colasanto grandson, she cared for him deeply. At least, she admitted rather bluntly, as much as she was capable of caring for anyone. So, it really wasn’t a surprise that she became rather protective of John … something that was met with bemusement from the man in question, but he also didn’t reject it. However, Suzie needed to stop pushing Mary Campbell Winchester’s buttons … and the other woman had to stop letting her. John, to his credit, was staying out of it.

Instead, the man who was a Hunter in another life focused his second chance on living, on just being alive. He playfully bickered with Ianto, teased Tosh, and kept a wary, respectful distance from Koschei (aside from one rather amusing incident where John splashed Koschei with holy water. Koschei later returned the favor with an old Super Soaker that belonged to Lily … and the two quickly went to war with Super Soakers. Rassilon didn’t laugh. Not at all). In short, he did everything he might have wanted to do in his original life, and he did it as if he was a child.

Mary, though … Mary hadn’t forgiven John for turning their two sons into Hunters, nor had she forgiven him for his son Adam, the product of a brief affair some ten years after Mary’s death. That, Rassilon sensed, was the prime issue Suzie had with the blonde woman. In Suzie’s eyes, John’s actions ultimately kept Dean and Samuel safe. He protected them, and taught them how to protect themselves. Given Chandra Costello’s crimes against his daughter, it was unlikely that Suzie had a great deal of sympathy for Mary. But that was only part of it.

The real issue was that Mary Campbell Winchester did not inhabit the body she was born into originally. That couldn’t be helped, as her original body was destroyed. It seemed that she understood that, at least intellectually. However, the American was still coming to terms with the fate of the woman whose body she now inhabited. More to the point, she was still becoming comfortable in her (borrowed) skin. To her, it was too much like demonic possession, and Rassilon acknowledged that he should have thought of that himself. Would have, could have, should have. He was still adjusting to humans and their issues.

Regardless, Rassilon had no issue with complying with Alicia’s request. He quickly typed a response and then hit ‘send,’ even as a light knock at the door announced that he had a visitor. Rassilon smiled to himself, even as he bade said visitor to enter. It surprised him not at all to find John Winchester entering his office and Rassilon sat back in his chair, observing, “I would say that I’m surprised, but I’m really not. What’s troubling you, John?” The Hunter sat in the chair Rassilon indicated. He looked better, really. The circles under his eyes were gone, and it was rare that he touched alcohol in this body.

Rassilon pondered what he would have done … if he’d watched Jack’s mother die on the ceiling when Jack himself was a baby. It would have been physically impossible, mind … but for the sake of looking at the world through John’s eyes, he tried to do just that. John said hesitantly, “I was hoping you could tell me more about my boys. It’s not that I don’t believe you when you say that they’re all right. It’s just …” His voice trailed off, and Rassilon mentally filled in the rest of John’s sentence. It was just that he wanted to know more. The Time Lord thought for several moments. In John’s position, what would he want to know? That Jack was happy and healthy? That wasn’t possible. That he had powerful friends and allies? That was a good start.

With that in mind, he looked back at John and asked with a gentle smile, “Would it make you feel better to know that your older son’s best friend is an angel?” John’s brown eyes widened and his mouth fell open, just a touch. Rassilon’s smile brightened as he continued, “I speak the truth. Dean’s most beloved boon companion, aside from your younger son, is an angel of the Lord, Castiel. In Castiel’s own words, he gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition. Their relationship has often been tested, but in the end … well. They have both made horrific mistakes … sometimes bordering on world-ending … but they’ve forgiven each other and moved forward. Castiel can be what you humans call ‘bad-ass,’ but he’s also an angel … and tends to be quite socially awkward.” John’s own smile brightened.

“My Dean has an angel for a best friend,” he murmured. Rassilon regarded the young mortal for a moment before he began telling John about some of their adventures together. He made sure to include the bad as well as the good, explaining that Castiel wasn’t perfect … not even close, but made sure that he provided context for the angel’s mistakes. John winced at some stories, laughed at others, and nodded in sympathy at still others. As Rassilon’s final story concluded, John murmured, “I wish I could thank him.”

Rassilon thought about Jacob sitting down below, his head bent toward Tosh’s as they worked out a problem she’d been having, and then said slowly, “Actually, there _is_ a way.” John shifted in his chair, and Rassilon explained, “Not directly. However, Jacob could be a twin to Castiel’s vessel, Jimmy Novak, just as you could be an older twin to Liam Grady. If you wish to thank Castiel … look after Jacob once you all arrive in England. Some things will be similar, but far more will be strange to him.” Not unexpectedly, John’s shoulders straightened and Rassilon hid a smile. That was what the young man was truly seeking … a purpose before they left for England. While he no doubt enjoyed his vacation, John Winchester needed a purpose. And now? Now, he had one. There was no doubt in his mind that Jacob would be in very good hands.

But John wasn’t done. He asked slowly, “You’ve mentioned your son Jack in the past. Would you … would you mind telling me about him? I know that he means a lot to Ianto and Tosh, a lot to Suzie. But … I’m not getting a clear picture of him.” Rassilon swallowed hard. John was the first of the newcomers to ask about Jack, and he wasn’t asking about him as a strategic asset, but as a person … a human being (well. Somewhat human, at least). And, like most parents, Rassilon loved talking about his son. It was just a matter of finding the right stories to tell. He would start, though, at the beginning.

“He was the most beautiful child I’d ever seen. Mind, when he was born, I was already ancient. I’d already seen the rise and fall of empires, the births and deaths of civilizations. But that child was the most wondrous thing I’d ever seen,” Rassilon began and John smiled, nodding as the Time Lord spoke. That ancient being told about his child’s embryonic (literally) empathy, reaching out to him with love and reassurance in the wake of the assassination attempt that nearly took the life of his biological mother … and that little one’s terror when he was transferred into the body of his surrogate/foster mother. Nothing in Jack’s life was ordinary, and that was as true of the beginning of his life as the rest of it.

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

Jacob Glaser wanted to go home.

He really wanted to go home … he wanted the familiar and the beloved. The only trouble was, he wasn’t entirely sure where that was any more. He was fairly certain that his home dimension was closed to him, and even if it wasn’t, he wasn’t so sure that Rassilon would let him go home. There was also the matter of showing up unexpectedly after being declared dead. So going back to his home dimension wasn’t even remotely possible, which made returning to his apartment and his life impossible. And really, Jacob had to admit, it wasn’t even home that he wanted at the moment … it was to be as far away from two feuding women as possible.

Honestly, he did like Suzie. She reminded him of some of his favorite girlfriends in college: sharp-witted, a bit snarky, full of hard-edges to protect the frightened little girl on the inside. Jacob was one of the youngest students in his courses, if not the youngest, and didn’t really fit in. Neither did the aforementioned girlfriends, all of whom were significantly older than he was. He wasn’t entirely sure how old Suzie was, but it didn’t matter … in all the ways that were important, she reminded him of those wonderful ladies.

He did like Suzie. But when she and Mary Campbell Winchester got into it (which was at least once a day … on a good day), Jacob immediately started looking for sanctuary. Their spats had a tendency to turn nasty, and no one wanted to get caught in the crossfire. The first time it happened, the Welsh guy … Ianto … literally grabbed the back of Jacob’s collar and dragged him out of the room and into the safety of the library, where the beautiful Toshiko was working on a computer program of some kind. She refused to tell him what she was doing, because she was still working out the kinks. Jacob interpreted that as, ‘I’m not ready to share, but when I am …’ type of thing.

And Tosh … Tosh was his favorite here. Rassilon scared the crap out of him. He really wasn’t sure what to make of Ianto. That was okay, though, because he was used to people not knowing what to make of him. Then there was the whole aliens thing. He was now working for an alien. He was going to be stopping aliens who wanted to hurt/destroy humanity, and he would be helping to protect aliens from monsters disguised as humans. And yes, at this point, he had genuine examples of that.

Tosh and Ianto told him the story earlier in the week about a space whale that came through what they called the Rift in Cardiff. Jacob listened in helpless, impotent fury as first Tosh, and then Ianto, explained what became of that poor whale. And then, Ianto told them both why saving the poor thing was so very important to their captain. It hit Owen hard enough, because he was a doctor (and evidently, Owen was with Jack, who was also Rassilon’s son, and trying to keep the familial relationships straight was starting to give Jacob a headache), but it seemed that Jack (their captain) was in a situation similar to the space whale. Tosh actually went white, before she started swearing in Japanese. Jacob couldn’t speak, because this … this was beyond him.

Secrets, that was one thing. Robot heads, that was another thing. But wrapping his mind around Time Lords? Space whales? Immortal captains who died and came back to life and who were tortured by Time Lords? He needed time to process that. Maybe even a lot of time. And when Rassilon came out of his office with John Winchester, explaining that Alicia Yates needed more time to get things organized, which meant that their departure to England would be further delayed, which meant that Jacob would have time to process everything he learned in the last few weeks. Unfortunately, that also meant that he would have to put up with more arguments between Suzie and Mary.

And, as if by thought alone, Rassilon’s announcement triggered yet another argument between the two females. Mary kicked it off this time, and Suzie was more than happy to get in her face. John rolled his eyes and glanced at Ianto. The young Welshman nodded with a tiny smile, and then he took one side, John took the other, and together, they steered Jacob right out of the room and into the quiet serenity that was Koschei’s study. And he was someone else who scared the ever living hell out of Jacob, but right now, he was preferably to the harpy smack-down going on out in the main part of the house.

The younger Time Lord looked up from the bodice ripper he was currently reading, asking, “Let me guess … the Frau Winchester and my dear Suzie are arguing again.” John Winchester nodded, looking exasperated and exhausted, and Koschei continued, “Well, please, make yourselves at home, my study is your study, but I do expect to be repaid eventually.” Ianto merely glared at him … Jacob was curious about that story, but he wasn’t that curious … and Koschei added, “Oh, not you, dear boy.”

“Later in the week, we’ll have another SuperSoaker battle,” John promised as he released Jacob and collapsed into a chair. He rubbed his hand over his eyes, and offered Ianto a weary smile as the Welshman pressed a bottle of water into his hand. Koschei tetched at him (that was the closest approximation Jacob could reach, a tetch), and Ianto just smirked at him. Yeah. Definitely a story there. John added, “Don’t start, you two. You’re worse than my two boys all the time they were growing up. Act just like brothers, you do.”

Jacob outright laughed at the twin indignant expressions that decorated both Ianto and Koschei’s faces. Ianto was sputtering and Koschei was staring at John in betrayed shock. Tosh, however, was giggling, and John winked at her. Koschei finally growled, “I _will_ make you pay for that, ape! There will be nowhere that you can hide from me!” John laughed as he relaxed into his chair, leaning his head back. He closed his eyes, sighing quietly, and Koschei asked quietly, his own features showing what Jacob recognized as his attempt at concern, “What’s wrong with your frau this time, Winchester?”

He asked the question of John, but it was Jacob who replied, “Our departure to England has been delayed, since Mrs. Yates isn’t ready yet.” That was set her off, at least, and Koschei’s eyes swung back to him. Jacob froze because, why yes, as a matter of fact, the junior Time Lord did scare the ever-living hell out of him! But Koschei only studied him intently, before smiling faintly and bobbing his head. His expression almost seemed to say, ‘ _all right then, lad … I suppose you’ll do_.’ What that meant, Jacob wasn’t entirely sure. Nor was he sure if he wanted to know. Had he mentioned that Koschei absolutely terrified him?

“It would seem Frau Winchester is still uncomfortable in her new skin. Understandable … well, not so much to me, I have new skin quite regularly, but I know you apes live your entire lives in one body. And young Doctor Glaser is in the same body he’s always been, largely because the Time Weavers were able to rescue him at the exact moment of the explosion. However, I am curious, Mr. Winchester, about why you aren’t uncomfortable in the body provided for you by Lord Rassilon?” Koschei asked, steepling his fingers together.

And John Winchester, who was his own brand of scary, answered quietly, “Who says I’m not?” Koschei raised his brows at that. The dark-haired Hunter sat forward in his chair, continuing, “Since I found my wife burning on the ceiling of our home, in our baby boy’s nursery, I’ve found myself in a lot of uncomfortable situations. Am I comfortable in my new skin? No. I don’t just have my memories, but the memories of the man who used to inhabit this body, and I have no idea how that’s possible. But here’s the problem: if I were to somehow find a way to leave this body, then what happens? The man who was born into this body? His soul isn’t here, not anymore. He _can’t_ come back, and that was true long before Lord Rassilon commandeered this body for my use. It was really true only days into the Miracle. So, I work with what I’ve got, and pray that he will be okay with the way I use this body … to protect people.”

Jacob blinked, because really, what could he say to that? Mr. Winchester was right in every aspect of what he just said. Well, he was assuming that he was right about the previous owner being unable to return. And it was unnecessary, for Lord Rassilon said from the door way, “Beautifully put, John Winchester. Very well, then, since you passed my first test with flying colors, I’ll start putting you on jobs around the compound until Alicia Yates is ready for you.” Jobs?   But Jacob didn’t ask, because Rassilon wasn’t speaking to him, and John’s face lit up like a kid at Christmas. Rassilon continued, “You can start this afternoon … you’ll accompany Artie Pagonis on his patrol around the compound, just to get you familiar with the area. Jacob … I have another job for you … one that will take you away from the lovely Toshiko’s side.” Jacob blushed and Tosh looked down … and Rassilon? Rassilon simply smiled.

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

 

Contrary to popular belief, Suzie didn’t actually _enjoy_ pushing Mary Winchester’s buttons. On the other hand, she also didn’t hate it. If she were to try to explain the source of her friction with the blonde woman … well, she couldn’t explain it. Was she annoying? Without question, but Suzie encountered annoying people in the past, and she never got a charge out of getting a rise out of her Levi’s, as Liam liked to say (she was glad Jack couldn’t hear that … she was afraid of the innuendos he would have come up with).

Did she think Mary had a stick up her arse? Without question. Again, that didn’t necessarily set Suzie off. Much as Suzie loved Tosh, the same could be said of her, and she didn’t find Tosh even remotely as annoying as she found Mary. So that wasn’t it, either. Suzie was tempted to say that it was a combination of several things, and it probably was. But when she had a splitting headache, she wasn’t in the mood to pull punches. And said splitting headache was partially Natalie’s fault … well, not really, but Suzie had to blame someone and Natalie’s migraine was as good of a scapegoat as anything, especially if she ignored the fact that Natalie never had migraines before Suzie invaded her dreams. Just thinking that made Suzie’s head hurt worse. What was she thinking when she pulled that stunt? Oh. Right. She was saving Jack. Lord Rassilon said everything had consequences, even her attempts at doing good.

So, no … she really didn’t know why she disliked Mary. And, she supposed, it really didn’t matter. At the moment, she wasn’t interested in the why … just in making sure that the blonde stayed away from her. Unfortunately, she wasn’t that lucky today. And if she was of a mind to be fair, Suzie would acknowledge that she sometimes instigated arguments when Mary Winchester wasn’t at her best. However, her growing headache (and her worry for Natalie) pushed away any desire to be fair.

Which was why, when Mary started bitching about Alicia’s changing the plans, Suzie wasn’t especially interested in even attempting to see things from her perspective. Nor was she willing to cut the other woman slack. Not even Tosh’s gentle reminder of her own … misjudgments … could prod Suzie into letting the other woman’s attitude slide. And she _did_ have an attitude. She was furious with her (ex?)-husband for turning their two sons into Hunters (with a capital H, apparently) … she was furious with Rassilon for accepting the Time Weavers’ request and putting her in a body that wasn’t her own (okay, she had Suzie there).

But even if she was justified in her anger toward Li … toward John and toward Rassilon, there was also the matter of how she behaved toward Tosh, Ianto, and Jacob. She was impatient with all three of them, and really, Suzie was fed up with her attitude. It didn’t help that Suzie knew she was partially responsible … but really, when all was said and done, it was Mary’s choice to behave as she did. Suzie was of the opinion that Li … John’s raising of their sons kept them alive. Suzie knew that he regretted, in his own words, ‘being a drill sergeant, rather than a father.’ But they were still alive … Dean Winchester and his brother were alive, because of that.

When she said as much to Mary, the other woman scoffed and demanded to know what she knew about it, since she wasn’t a mother. Only Tosh’s arms around her torso kept her from slapping the blonde … however, no one bothered to cover her mouth with their hand as she icily informed the other woman that she was a daughter who was truly abused by her father, in ways no one should ever be hurt. Suzie took no pleasure in the horrified expression that crossed Mary Winchester’s face … especially as she added bitterly that sometimes (more times than not), the worst monsters were the ones with human DNA.

But she _did_ take pleasure in Li … in John’s big hands curling around her forearms, his dark eyes intent on her face as he told her that he might have hunted supernatural evil, but he had no use for human evil, either. Suzie let herself pretend for a moment that this really was Liam (who was busy in the main house with issues involving Lily). But she put that illusion aside and smiled sadly at John Winchester, telling him that later, he would have hunted her, for the evil she did. And oh, there was so much evil … so many people she hurt!

John’s answering smile was equally sad as he leaned forward to kiss her forehead (as Liam would never do, and that understanding made her heart ache). He whispered that they all did evil, in one form or another. Rassilon must have seen something in her worth saving, or she would be dead. And Suzie felt her heart stop at those words, because he was right. He was right. _John was absolutely right_. Rassilon saw something in her, in Ianto, in Tosh, in Owen. He saw something in Jacob and Mary and John worth saving.

And that was at the heart of why she had issues with Mary, why she took issue with the blonde woman so much of the time (aside from the fact that yes, it was fun winding her up). Granted, Rassilon probably could have gone about it in a different or better way, but he allowed her to have a second chance at life. Given how many chances Suzie herself got, she knew she had no stones to be throwing, but she also had little regard for ingratitude. Oh. That was a frightening thought. Did she see in Mary a light-side version of herself? That notion distracted her … and damn, she _really_ needed to work on her shields! She really hoped Natalie was all right … this migraine was taking a toll on both women.

It was because of her worry for Natalie (and the pain that was bleeding through her protective shield), that she finally snarled, “Oh, get over yourself! So John turned your two boys into Hunters, and you wanted them to have nothing to do with that lifestyle? Well, guess what, princess, you pretty much took any choice out of John’s hands when you made that deal with that demon!” Mary’s eyes blazed, but before she could speak, Suzie blasted right past her, adding, “I may not be able to blame you for making that deal … after that thing possessed your dad and murdered both your mum and John. But I bloody well can blame you for leaving John and your sons unprotected! You castigate John for the choices he made, but your own selfishness led to those choices. And you want to know how I can tear into you for being selfish? Because my own selfishness got people killed. I got people killed, I destroyed people’s lives, because of what I wanted, not what was best for the people I claimed to love!”

She all but spat the words into the blonde’s face, reveling in the way Mary Winchester reeled back. Suzie nodded grimly, adding, “We’re alike, you and I. Far too much alike, for all your pretensions otherwise. We both chose what we wanted, rather than what was best for our chosen families. You chose to turn your back on your heritage, for yourself and for your children. Maybe if you’d embraced your heritage, or simply not rejected it … maybe you and your husband would still be with your children. But you chose yourself, not just when you made that deal, but every day after. The only truly unselfish thing you did was protecting your sons, but it was too little, too late, wasn’t it? And now? Now, you’re just as selfish as ever, because did you even ask why your departure to England was delayed? No, of course not. So I’m going to tell you … she isn’t quite ready, because there are issues with her children. And they come first.”

That was actually something Alicia told Suzie in a private email, confiding that she was worried about her oldest daughter, who should have been starting uni this year, but those plans were put on hold for the moment because of the Miracle. Yes. Because of the thrice-be-damned Abomination. And it was something she would have shared with the others, if _someone_ didn’t get a bee in her bonnet about the delay. Suzie decided not to share anything more with Mary (although she might tell the others), because it wasn’t any of her sodding business. Truthfully, it wasn’t anyone’s business but Alicia’s.

Taking pleasure in silencing Mary, Suzie brushed past the other woman, rubbing her forehead again. She was stunned when the other woman said, her voice neutral for once (almost concerned), “You keep rubbing your forehead … are you all right?” Suzie swung back to face the woman, only to discover that Mary looked genuinely concerned. Mary added, “Do you have something to take for it?” Suzie was wrong-footed … not because she had a sudden epiphany regarding Mary’s nature. She knew that Mary cared about others, but because it was totally out of the blue. And that was probably why she answered the way she did.

“Nothing I _can_ take for it. I just have to rebuild my shields. My … due to my actions before Lord Rassilon reunited my body and spirit, I have a connection to the owner of the property. I forged a connection in order to save Lord Rassilon’s son Jack, and the connection runs both ways. If my shields aren’t up, I feel everything that Natalie feels … and she feels everything I feel. And it’s my responsibility to maintain those shields, because I created the connection. That’s something I have to live with … knowing that if I’m not careful, my dark side could influence someone who doesn’t deserve it, someone who didn’t ask for it. I just need some quiet time, while I rebuild the shields and talk to Liam, see if he can contact Jack to make sure my soul-sister is all right,” Suzie answered. It was the first time she’d used the term for Natalie Tregarth, but it was the one that seemed to fit best. She doubted that Natalie particularly wanted another sister, much less one who was as damaged as Suzie herself was … and especially with the recent revelations regarding her birth family (really? Her oldest niece was only nine years younger than she was? They might as well be sisters). But Suzie would do her best to do right by Natalie. It was the least she could do. John was right. Lord Rassilon saved her because he saw in her something worth saving. It was time, and long past time, for her to start living up to whatever potential he saw in her. She would start with those she considered her family … Tosh, Ianto, Rassilon, Jack, Natalie, Lily, and Liam.

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what exactly did Mary say to set Suzie off? I have no idea. She (or rather, both women) won’t tell me, just says that when the time is right, I’ll know. I know, it’s aggravating, but I’ve learned the hard way not to argue with the characters, not if I want the story to continue. Which I do. And while we’re talking about Suzie, how many people knew that the incredible Indira Varma was on Game of Thrones? I found out last night, and asked a close friend what she thought of her character, since I don’t get HBO and was bored with what I saw of Game of Thrones. I figured, since it was Indira Varma, she would either be a character you loved or a character you loved to hate.


	4. Atonement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Rassilon brings something to Koschei’s attention; Alicia Yates continues having issues; and Koschei makes amends (or starts to).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hit a massive snag with this story. I had a specific destination in mind when I started it, but realized quite quickly that my plans wouldn’t work. And yet, I didn’t want to re-write what was already done. Cue my growing interest in Spooks/MI5 and Lucas North (well, really, any Richard Armitage character) and my equally growing disbelief at how his exit from the show was handled (seriously? That was the best they could do? SERIOUSLY???). Suffice to say, that Lucas and Malcolm are my two favorite characters on the show (thus far … I’ve only seen three episodes so far, and while I like Ros well enough, she doesn’t make me smile like Malcolm and Lucas do). And Malcolm’s line to Lucas about, ‘eight years … has it really been so long,’ provided me with the trigger I needed. I outlined this chapter in about ten minutes during my lunch break, and this is the result. It’s ever so useful, having the Master to blame for things. He doesn’t mind … in fact, I think he rather enjoys it! So yes, Lucas will be meeting up with Torchwood, eventually.

Colasanto Compound, Nevada

Rassilon’s Office

 

 

“Koschei … I believe you have unfinished business in London.”

One of these days, he would learn to be wary when Rassilon spoke like that. Those were never suggestions. They were orders thinly disguised as suggestions.   He was reminded of that when his Prime continued, “There is a young man in Great Britain whom you wronged.” Well, that covered a great deal of ground. So far as Koschei could recall, he’d wronged nearly everyone on the planet at one time or another, and some worse than others. Rassilon likely realized this, for he continued, “True, you wronged most people on this planet in one form or another. However, save for one or two … including my own son … your tortures rarely involved the mind.”

Oh. Oh … that narrowed things down considerably. Rassilon meant a comely young man whom Koschei pretended to take under his wing. Well, the boy was ‘liberated’ from a Russian prison, what did people expect of him? Koschei observed flatly, “You refer to the young man called ‘Lucas North.’ I know you, Rassilon. You mention him for a specific reason.”   Of course he did. Rassilon never did anything without reason, unless it pertained to his youngest son … in which case, the fact that Jack was his son was reason enough. It was part of being a father, Rassilon observed. Koschei would take his word for it.

“I refer to him, Koschei, because your machinations ruined the boy’s life … and because the machinations of the Families extended his life,” Rassilon answered tartly. Koschei blinked and Rassilon sighed, explaining what happened to the young MI5 agent once time reset. He spoke of the eight years he spent in the Russian prison, ending with a prisoner swap. And then he spoke of an explosion which took the life of a comrade in arms … as well as the head injury which Koschei’s third-favorite toy sustained when he tried to return for that comrade. The head injury that triggered a memory cascade, a cascade of false memories.

It wasn’t in Koschei to regret often, but the truth was, Lucas North’s only real sin was that he tried to protect Jack Harkness when he started realizing that Koschei was a friend to no human. Yes, an all-too-breakable human tried to protect the freak, even after seeing that he came back from the dead. And why did Koschei do that? Why, because he was jealous! Even so, that still didn’t explain why Rassilon was bringing this to his attention, much less now. And, as to be expected, his Lord President didn’t make him wait long for an explanation. He observed, “Since his attempted suicide, Lucas North has been in a coma … and under the care of his former colleague, Malcolm Wynn-Jones. I want you to go to London and make this right, Koschei. At the same time, you can check on Alicia’s progress.”

Ahhh … now they were coming to the heart of the matter. Evidently, Rassilon was getting annoyed with Mary Campbell Winchester and her incessant battles with Suzie … and he wanted her out of his hair. Well, Koschei could accommodate him there. Honestly, he wasn’t that enamored with her himself. She wasn’t as annoying or self-centered as Olivia Colasanto, but he still didn’t like her. She reminded him of the Doctor’s more annoying personas. And no, that wasn’t a compliment.

“Very well. I shall leave for London. Just … be sure to keep Suzie and Mary separated. And if you can’t, make sure the footage ends up on YouTube, so we can all enjoy it,” Koschei answered with a huff. The corners of Rassilon’s mouth lifted, and his bright eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. Bright blue eyes … the same shade as Jack’s. The same shade as Lucas North’s. And something occurred to him. Since Koschei’s impulse control was minimal, he went ahead and asked, “Lucas North … is he descended from Jack?”

Rassilon took his time in answering. It didn’t really matter, when all was said and done. He actually liked Lucas North a great deal … enjoyed his sense of humor. At last, Rassilon answered quietly, “No. No, he is no child of Jack’s, no child of mine. But we must atone for the people we have hurt. You. Me. Jack. Lucas. But Lucas can only make things right if he’s conscious. Besides. Malcolm Wynn-Jones gave up enough of his life already for other people.” Koschei inclined his head.

Before he left, though, he would need to look into MI-5 and Lucas North’s past. He remembered a little of what he did to the young man’s mind and memories, but he would need to refresh his own memories if he wanted to do this properly. Not doing it properly never really entered his mind … he knew what Rassilon would do to him if he left this job half-done. As he left Rassilon’s office, he heard Toshiko and Jacob discussing something they discovered together. Koschei smiled in spite of himself. There was a part of him which hoped Alicia Yates still wasn’t ready. Toshiko and Jacob really were terribly sweet together.

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

 

England

Alicia Yates’ home

 

 

This … was getting out of hand. Alicia Yates hung up the phone, quietly fuming. Her youngest child, ten year old Kellie, was staring at her anxiously. Alicia forced a smile for her little girl. Judging from Kellie’s expression, it didn’t fool her one bit, but her daughter responded with a brave little smile of her own. Faced with that, what else could Alicia do but smile even brighter at her daughter, smoothing her hair tenderly? She said, kissing the top of her daughter’s head, “Your big sister is in very big trouble.” 

“How big?” Kellie inquired, leaning into her mother’s touch. Her baby was growing up so damn fast. Her baby wasn’t a baby anymore. Her baby would always be her baby. Alicia kissed the top of Kellie’s head, trying to keep her tone light, even as she desperately wanted to strangle her oldest daughter. She thought that Niki was over this, was done with her wild child years. Evidently, she was wrong. Perhaps she should have seen it coming … with the promise of the four Americans coming to help with Bulwark, including two men, Drew was starting to settle down. Naturally, Niki thought that was her cue to start behaving … like she was! 

“Your sister is in Big Ben-sized trouble, m’girl,” Alicia finally told her youngest, and actually had to bite back a smile at the way Kellie’s eyebrows rose into her hairline. She could remember a time, not so long ago, when Kellie needed her hand to make her eyebrows move at all. If Alicia remembered correctly (and she knew she did), five year old Kellie was intrigued when her grandpa Mike waggled his eyebrows at her … and since she lacked the muscle control to repeat the gesture, she put a tiny hand on her forehead, and moved it up and down to make her eyebrows move …something that had her grandfather laughing hysterically. 

Then again, much of what Kellie did and said made her grandfather laugh. She was, as Alicia’s father said proudly, an extremely cute little girl. Not just comely, but funny. Alicia remembered another time when her then-three year old daughter parked her little bum outside the en suite, sing-songing, “I’m out here waiting for you, Grandpa!” Alicia and Kate were both nearly on the floor, laughing hysterically … albeit not where the three year old could see or hear them. That same girl, now a grown-up ten year old (yeah right) observed, “That’s a lot of trouble. What did she do now, Mum?” 

It was more a matter of, what hasn’t she done … not that Alicia was about to share that with a ten year old. Instead, she sighed, “That, m’girl, is a very, very, very long story. The most important thing is, thanks to your sister’s little stunt, the arrival of those nice Americans that your brother is so looking forward to meeting has been delayed again. Worse than that, Mr. Rassilon is sending Mr. Koschei to London for other business, but he’ll be checking up on us, no doubt.” Rassilon was a bit cagy about what kind of business his junior associate had in London, which meant the somewhat sane Master was up to no good for someone. Alicia could only hope that he wouldn’t be causing trouble for the Doctor. 

Drew wouldn’t be happy about this latest delay, and it was clear from Kellie’s expression that she wasn’t particularly happy about it, either. Alicia honestly hadn’t realized how much any of her children missed their father until they learned about the arrival of John Winchester and Jacob Glaser. There was a part of Alicia that wanted to be hurt … but really couldn’t. As the daughter of a UNIT captain, there were so many times while she was growing up when she desperately missed her father … her father, who would be coming home. But the father of her children? He would never come home. 

Alicia hugged her daughter close, taking comfort in the way Kellie’s arms wrapped around her waist. She would enjoy this while it lasted. All too soon, Kellie would be pulling away and whining, ‘ _not in front of my friends, Mum_.’ A beeping noise from her mobile drew her attention away from the way her life seemed to be falling apart … only for her to receive more bad news. She sighed deeply, reading the text from Rassilon. Kellie, her arms still wrapped around her waist, mumbled, “What is it, Mummy?” 

“It’s a text from Lord Rassilon, sweetheart,” Alicia answered, trying to keep the chagrin from her voice. Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse … She shook her head, re-reading the text. ‘ _Forgot to mention, Koschei will need your father’s connections with MI5_.’ Of course. As if things weren’t bad enough, it seemed that the Master crossed someone within the domestic intelligence community. Well, there was no hope for it. She just hoped she could convince her father to go along with this. He was nearly as invested in Bulwark as she was, but he hadn’t forgotten what the Master put UNIT and the Doctor through. 

And unfortunately, her efforts to keep her feelings out of her voice didn’t work nearly as well as she would have wanted. Kellie tilted her head back to look at her, asking, “Is he really mad ‘cause of Niki?” No, and that was the problem. He was too understanding, and that made Alicia more than a little uncomfortable. Then she remembered that Rassilon was the father of Captain Jack Harkness, and he had to understand about obstinate children. Earth still existed, thanks to the stubbornness demonstrated by his son. 

“Not really, love. It’s just that Mr. Koschei will need Grandpa’s help, and I’m not looking forward to telling him that,” Alicia admitted with a small sigh. On the other hand, as someone who was in a position to help his former nemesis, her dad would probably relish being in a position of power over one who tormented him and his colleagues in UNIT. That was, of course, assuming that he didn’t surprise her and agree after throw a strop to end all strops. One could never tell with her father. 

Kellie rested her chin on her mother’s sternum, and Alicia struggled not to laugh when her daughter said in a half-horrified, half-admiring voice, “Mr. Koschei must have done something really, really naughty if he needs Grandpa’s help!” Oh yes … he must have been naughty indeed. Although, knowing the Master, Alicia thought a bit sourly, it probably bordered on genocidal. However, Kellie unknowingly put her finger on the most important thing of all, as she added, “But it must be really important, or Lord Rassilon wouldn’t have asked.” 

It must have been really important, or Lord Rassilon wouldn’t have asked. It all boiled down to that, and Alicia hugged her daughter a little tighter. Kellie was absolutely right. As soon as she could, she’d tell her father what was needed. And she would tell Rassilon that she would find a way to get her father to cooperate. But for right now, she would hold her daughter, this most precious child of hers, because when all was said and done, Alicia was doing this, all of this, for her and for Niki and for Drew. Because in order for her children to live, they had to have a world to live in. For the first time, her father’s years in UNIT crystallized for her. He wouldn’t have put it in those words, but Alicia understood then that the notion of letting the world burn for one person … was the most selfish concept imaginable.

 

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

 

London, England

Two Days Later

 

  

He sat in this seat every day for the last year plus, watching over his comatose friend and colleague. Watched the IV dripping its life-saving solution, watched the shallow, steady rise and fall of the younger man’s chest. Sometimes, he fussed over the young man … moving the dark hair away from his forehead, or plumping the pillows. Sometimes, he talked to him … told him about what happened since his swan dive ( _oh, what were you thinking? We would have helped you_!). He even told him about the poorly-named Miracle Day. Two months when no one died. On the one hand, Malcolm Wynn-Jones cursed the Families, who unleashed that hell on this planet. But on the other hand … on the other, he blessed them. Quite without meaning to, they bought Lucas North time for his broken body to heal. His broken mind, on the other hand … 

And the man in the bed * _was_ * Lucas North. That was one of the first things they learned. John Bateman, whom Lucas thought he was, died many years earlier. John Bateman did exist … he was a murderer and a terrorist. But he and Lucas North were not one and the same. They never were. John Bateman was dead and Lucas North lay comatose in this bed. But it was still more than poor Ruth had. Lucas would get another chance, once he awoke. Not just to live, but to atone for his mistakes. He wasn’t John Bateman, but he still kidnapped Ruth, and still tried to steal Albany. 

Yes, there were times when Malcolm talked to Lucas … and there were times when he ranted at his young friend. _How could you have been so stupid, why didn’t you trust us … how could you not know_? And yet, he couldn’t truly be angry with Lucas. This was who Lucas was, even before the eight years in Russia. After he came home, he was focused on proving himself. Proving that he could still do the job, that he was still loyal. From the boy’s perspective, it seemed he had even more to prove after Adam’s death. The trouble was, of course, that the person he had the most to prove to … was himself. 

Today wasn’t a ranting day. Malcolm hadn’t the energy to rant. And really, ranting at Lucas for being Lucas was like ranting at Harry for being Harry. Instead, Malcolm sat beside Lucas, quietly reading. In the years since Lucas’ suicide attempt, Malcolm never quite got out of the habit of stopping every few minutes to make sure that Lucas was still breathing. It was like any other day … except today, it wasn’t. As Malcolm once more glanced over at Lucas, footfall alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone. 

He knew it wasn’t Harry. The other man was still angry with him for not telling him about Lucas’ survival, or about Malcolm’s decision to look after him. He was angry with Malcolm for that, angry with the Families for the Miracle, and angry that Lucas was alive while Ruth was dead. More than that, he was angry because he couldn’t choose between Lucas and Ruth. He loved them both, although it wasn’t in Harry (or Malcolm, come to that) to admit that he loved Lucas. It just wasn’t done. That hadn’t, however, stopped him from hugging Lucas when he returned from Russia. 

No, it wasn’t Harry. As Malcolm looked up, he saw a slight, dark-haired man standing in the doorway. There was something … something about the man that made the hair on the back of Malcolm’s neck stand up and sent a chill down his spine. That chill didn’t go away when the man spoke, his eyes on Lucas, “I never really believed it … what they were saying. Lucas North tried to kill himself … would have succeeded were it not for the Miracle. After everything he endured in the Russian prison, after everything I did to him … I truly didn’t think he could be broken. Oh, he was damaged, but not destroyed … not broken.” 

‘ _Who are you_ ,’ Malcolm wanted to ask, but the words were frozen in his throat. That didn’t stop him from shifting sideways. He knew … somehow … that there was nothing he could do to protect Lucas. He also knew that it wouldn’t stop him from trying. The man walked further into the room and now Malcolm could see him far more clearly. He looked to be perhaps ten years younger than Harry and Malcolm, with a thin face and dark hair. He was slender … in truth, he reminded Malcolm of a blade. He was dangerous. In so many ways. 

“Oh, Malcolm Wynn-Jones. You don’t remember me? You don’t remember watching me work on the Valiant?” the man asked, half-mockingly and half-sadly. Malcolm’s breath caught in his throat. The Valiant. The Year that Never Was, the Year that only he and others on the Valiant at the moment time reversed remembered. That Year still haunted Malcolm … seeing the horrific torture which the Master visited upon the person of the immortal Captain Jack Harkness. And what he did to Lucas. 

“You. You look different,” Malcolm forced out. He didn’t remember the face, but he remembered the deeds. He remembered the people this individual hurt, including the young man in the bed. He remembered Tish Jones and her parents, he remembered Jack, he remembered the Doctor. He remembered the impotent fury he felt when the Doctor forgave this bastard on behalf of all of humanity. And then he remembered something else. He breathed, “You wouldn’t regenerate. After Lucy shot you. You refused to regenerate.” 

The man nodded slowly and said softly, “I did. But I was brought back … even crazier than before, if you can believe that.” Malcolm’s expression hardened and the Master continued with a sigh, “I was brought back, and my wife, my Lucy, sacrificed her own life to end me. She wouldn’t let humanity suffer through me again, my beautiful Lucy. But it was all for naught. There is so much more to the story, Malcolm Wynn-Jones. The important thing is, I was cleansed of my madness, and now, seek to atone for what I did. Not just to Lucas, but to others.” 

Malcolm ignored the last three words, because things were falling into place. He stared at the Master and breathed, “It was you. You’re the reason Lucas thought that he was John Bateman!” The Master nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Malcolm’s face, and the tech wizard hissed, “You bastard … you unmitigated bastard!” Unexpectedly, the Master smiled. It wasn’t the manic smile he learned to fear, it wasn’t the smile of a madman. No, it was a sad smile. 

“A bastard? I suppose that’s one thing you could call me. A monster, a murderer, someone to frighten your children into behaving.   You see, Malcolm, it was I who helped to unleash the Miracle on your planet and your people. In a strange way, I helped to save Lucas, decades before he was even born,” the Master observed softly and Malcolm’s heart clenched. He helped to unleash the Miracle … he was the one responsible for the suffering of so many? He was in league with the Families? And yet, he couldn’t forget the rest of that sentence. He helped to save Lucas, after nearly destroying him. 

“Why are you here now?” Malcolm rasped out, because it was the only other question he could ask. Oh, he supposed he could have asked how he came to be in a secure MI-5 site, but the man was once elected to be Prime Minister. That would have been a foolish question to ask when all was said and done. The Master took another step forward, and without even really thinking about it, Malcolm again moved … once more shielding Lucas from his tormentor. So many things were making sense now. Nearly a week before Martha Jones was captured (allowed herself to be captured), Lucas was taken off the Valiant, in yet another show of defiance by Jack Harkness. It was one of many reasons why Malcolm couldn’t stay with MI-5 after the return of the 456. He knew that Harry wasn’t responsible for the actions of certain others, but he couldn’t be part of that, not after seeing who Jack Harkness really was. Not after what his own damn organization did to the man.

“Why am I here? To heal what I once damaged. To start putting the pieces of Lucas North back together. His body is healed, but he remains unconscious as his psyche heals. I can help with that,” the Master answered. Malcolm’s eyes narrowed, and the Master continued, “As to your next question, the inevitable why … because I had my eyes opened. I will still be a trickster and still cause as much trouble to my best enemy as possible. But I will no longer use humans as I did once. I learned from the oldest of our people that just as I sought to take immortality from Jack Harkness, so too could others try to take the same from me. Worse, I learned that Jack was his son.” Malcolm felt his eyes widen at that, and now a gentle smile touched the Master’s mouth. A genuinely kind, gentle smile. 

“He will need you in the days to come, Malcolm Wynn-Jones. He will need your help as he learns to forgive himself, particularly for the lies he believed and the acts he committed in those last weeks before he tried to take his own life. You’ve stayed with him all this time … do not abandon him now,” the Master said quietly. He gently nudged Malcolm out of the way and rested a light hand on Lucas’ forehead. That was shocking enough … but Lucas gave a low moan, the first sound he heard from his young friend in too long. The Master removed his hand and sighed quietly, before stepping back as the machines began to go wild. 

There would be only seconds before the doctors and nurses came in. Malcolm realized that numbly, and the Master said softly as he slipped toward the door, and the sound of feet running, “There is one other thing. My name is Koschei. Not the Master. The Master is dead. Long live Koschei.” And then he was gone. Malcolm stared after him for a long moment, but a soft groan from Lucas brought his attention back to the former agent. A pair of bleary blue eyes were peeking through his lashes. Malcolm gasped a little, but that was all. He couldn’t speak. 

And then, he didn’t have to, because Lucas North rasped out, “Malcolm? You’re dead, too?” Malcolm Wynn-Jones, who spent the last year and a half at his friend’s bedside, who kept this lonely vigil, sank to his knees and allowed his head to rest against Lucas’ bed. A light touch to the top of his head, so light and tentative, and Malcolm could have cried as words echoed in his ears. ‘ _Just like camp, mattresses and everything_.’ Lucas, coming home from Russia, trying to comfort him. Just as he was now. Lucas, once again, found his way home to them … and once again, was trying to comfort him. It was enough to break his heart. 

This wasn’t the end, he knew. This was only the beginning, and Malcolm reached up blindly to cover Lucas’ hand with his own. This was only the beginning. Lucas would need therapy, both physical and emotional. And Malcolm would be there every step of the way. He didn’t trust the Master, but one thing was true. The Master … Koschei … said that Lucas would need him. Until Lucas was ready, truly ready, to stand on his own, Malcolm wouldn’t leave his side.

 

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional author’s notes: Yep, I messed with the timeline of Spooks ever so slightly. Only by a year … just enough so that Lucas would survive that fall, thanks to the interference of the Families. Wow … they actually do something useful for a change. Also, I do plan to address having two characters with the same name (Lucas North and Lucas Martinelli) … that will happen in the next story, ‘Dite’s Favor.’


	5. Smoke and Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we have Mary coming to terms with the way Suzie (and others) see her; Mike Yates reflects on how strangely life can turn out to; while Lucas struggles to process just how long he’s been unconscious … and just how much of what he thought to be the truth is just another bit of smoke and mirrors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love it when characters throw me a curveball. Not. After the Rain was originally supposed to be a Supernatural/Torchwood/Doctor Who co-mingling, in which John and Mary Winchester both received a second chance at life. To a degree, that’s happened, but it took a few twists that I wasn’t expecting. For one thing, there was supposed to be a one-sided flirtation between John and Alicia (because John was still wearing his wedding ring, twenty-two years after his wife’s death, and he was obviously still in love with her). But that didn’t work out, in large part because John, Mary and Jacob won’t get to England until the next story (and please, pay close attention to the warnings at the end of this story regarding ‘Dite’s Favor’). The introduction of Lucas North provided a piece of the puzzle that I wasn’t even aware that I was missing (and boy, are we going to have fun with that particular spook). So, here we are at the final chapter, aside from the epilogue, and the only things that I’ve accomplished when I originally set out are a) John and Mary getting a second chance and b) Mary admitting that she was just as responsible for the mess that led to John becoming a Hunter. I don’t hate Mary; however, I roll my eyes at the idea that she’s a saint and John’s only slightly better than a demon.

Colasanto Compound, Nevada

Later that week

 

 

It was never a comfortable thing, to find your worldview so completely shaken. For years, Mary Campbell Winchester resented her husband for the path he took after her death, after the Yellow-Eyed Demon dripped blood into the mouth of their younger son. It was all John’s fault, all of it, and if he’d stayed in Lawrence … everything would have been fine. Of course, that was a massive simplification, and day by day, Mary was being forced to see that she bore a significant amount of responsibility. Not just for the deal she made that horrific day when she lost both of her parents and almost lost the man she loved, but for what she failed to do afterward.

 

As the daughter of a Hunter, she knew that she couldn’t simply run away … but she ignored that. She failed to protect her husband and her sons, and only now did Mary realize what she’d done in pushing John away after Sammy was born. YED could have targeted him to get to her … he’d done it once before, after all, and Mary shuddered.   She could have reminded herself that she was suffering from post-partum depression. It was true enough, after all, and she’d been so cruel toward John to the point that he felt he had to leave, because if he didn’t … if he didn’t, he might have done something he couldn’t forgive himself for.

She could have reminded herself of that, but Mary saw that as an excuse, now. The last several weeks under this roof, her countless confrontations with Suzie Costello brought home a few home truths. First and foremost, she started this mess, and then she compounded her mistake by failing to provide her husband with the weapons he would need to fight for their sons after she was gone. She wasn’t saying John was right a hundred percent of the time, but listening to people who were sympathetic to what a heart-broken, confused widower went through after her murder … well, it forced her to see things from a different perspective.

Mary had to admit, once and for all, that she wasn’t blameless in this. She could have started training John years earlier, could have figured out a way to train him without giving away too much (i.e., telling him enough that he understood the danger, without the danger of her ending up in the loony bin). He had the foundation already, courtesy of the Marines. Instead, she hid from herself and she hid from her heritage. Her husband made many mistakes while raising their boys, she didn’t deny it … and neither did he. John was painfully honest about his mistakes with both Dean and Sam.

How was it that he put it once? Oh yes, he stopped being their father and just become their drill sergeant. Mary supposed it was that honesty which forced her own hand. That and Suzie Costello.   In another lifetime, they might have been friends, her and Suzie. Or not. There was a not-so-veiled disdain in the British woman’s expression, every time she looked at Mary. As if Suzie judged her and didn’t just find her wanting, but found her beneath contempt. And yet, Mary was forced to see herself through Suzie’s eyes … this cool, mysterious woman who knew entirely too much about parents who failed their children.   She saw herself through Suzie’s eyes, and she didn’t like what she saw.

That was one reason why she kept to herself, these last few days since Koschei’s departure for Britain. Unlike many others in the house (namely Ianto and Toshiko), Mary actually liked Koschei. She knew that the feeling wasn’t mutual. She also knew that Koschei was Not a Nice Man (the little verbal skirmishes between the slight man with the Scottish accent and Ianto were enough to convince her of that). For all that, however, she liked him. She loved listening to him, and loved the aforementioned verbal skirmishes between him and the young Welshman whom John so quickly befriended.

Another reason was, it was simply too painful to watch the growing bond between Jacob Glaser and Toshiko Sato, knowing that it would soon end. And they really were an adorable couple. Jacob always blushed whenever John gently tease the third member of their group, but he didn’t really deny it, either. Mary did wonder who Castiel was, since John occasionally slipped up and called Jacob by that name. He wasn’t especially interested in explaining why he would call Jacob by another name, much less the name of the Angel of Thursday. Then again, John had very little to say to her.

He wasn’t angry, Mary came to realize. There was sadness in his brown eyes, but no anger … no hatred. Just sadness, and pain. Mary groaned and buried her face in her hands. A quiet voice observed, “Now you begin to understand, Mary Campbell Winchester.” Mary raised her head to blearily eye the primary reason she was in this situation. Lord Rassilon, President of Gallifrey (and she still didn’t know where that was). But no. No, Rassilon merely granted permission for her second chance and provided the body. He wasn’t responsible for any of this, not really.

“I don’t know how to fix this. All this time, I’ve been so frustrated with Alicia Yates and whatever was causing the delay in the UK, but the truth is … none of us could go anywhere while I had my head shoved up my ass,” Mary answered hoarsely. She shook her blonde hair out of her eyes, asking, “How do I fix this? I can’t be the mother to my sons that they deserve, and I wasn’t the wife John deserved, either. And I hurt him, Rassilon. I hurt him so much. He was so happy to see me again and I …” Words deserted her as she thought about how she treated her husband when they came face to face once more.

“You were a shrew,” Rassilon answered rather blandly and Mary winced. She didn’t protest, however, and Rassilon went on, “But nothing is lost, Mary. You’re both still alive. When you’re ready, you’ll go to John.” It wasn’t a question … it was a statement of fact, and Mary wondered how he knew. He smiled almost impishly at her, saying in a false Northern English accent, “Oi! Time Lord, me! I know these things!” Mary didn’t understand the reference, but she didn’t need to. He told her that it wasn’t late … and Rassilon had a way of being right about such things. She just had to find the courage to do that most difficult of things … apologize.

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

London, England

 

Life took some unexpected twists and turns. He thought he learned that lesson years earlier. Likely, he had and then he forgot it in retirement. Mike Yates didn’t think so, however. It was far more likely that he simply lost track of it. The way he was now losing track of his train of thought, and Mike shook his head, returning his attention to the strangest twist his life had taken in recent months (and yes, that included the Earth being moved, those alien bastards targeting the children, and the very poorly-named Miracle).

Earlier in the week, his daughter Alicia came to him with a most extraordinary tale. He knew about her plan to launch Bulwark, and really, he couldn’t have been prouder of her. She wasn’t trying to do Torchwood or UNIT’s job for them, she was trying to make their job easier. Of course Mike was aware of Torchwood … just as he was aware of what his former employer had become during the last few years. He didn’t have to like Harkness to be aware that the man did something that no one else on the planet had the courage to do (and he didn’t like Harkness. However, he _did_ respect him, which was more than he could say for most of UNIT right now).

His daughter … his kind-hearted, compassionate, determined daughter … was totally resolute that the ordinary citizens of this planet could help to protect themselves, if only by staying out of the bloody way. And his foolish little girl thought she was no one special, but she didn’t have to be special to do the right thing. Not special, hah! Of course she was special, she was his Alicia, and the only Alicia he would ever have!

Which was probably a large part of the reason why, when she asked him a bit nervously if he would meet with someone, that he didn’t flat-out refuse. Oh, he didn’t know who the other person was, but his little girl wasn’t nervous about most meetings, which meant that whoever this person was, it was likely that Mike would want to kill him or her. There were times when Mike truly hated being right. He hadn’t recognized the slim, dark-haired man at first. Not until he referenced his encounters with UNIT did Mike recognize him as the most recent incarnation of the Master.

Mike wanted it _very_ clear … had he been thirty years younger (or even fifteen years younger), he would have taken the so-called Master with ease. But Mike wasn’t a young man any more, and his daughter was already visibly nervous. Besides, the Master seemed almost … subdued. And then, he found out what the Master (who now called himself Koschei) wanted. As a former ranking officer in UNIT, Mike had some dealings with MI5, although he avoided contact with them in the wake of the 456 mess. Perhaps that was why, when Koschei asked for access to the hospital room of a comatose MI5 agent, Mike agreed. He didn’t know Lucas North personally … by reputation only, but was sure that if Koschei said he was responsible for the rather bizarre turn his behavior took toward the end, not only was Koschei responsible, but he was a hundred percent to blame.

None of which answered the persistent question. Yes, he could believe Koschei was to blame for the young agent’s bizarre actions; and yes, he could also believe the former Master’s story about the Year that Never Was. What he was still having a hard time with was why he got involved. As he said, he knew Lucas North only by reputation. The same was true of Harry Pearce and the rest of Section D. So, why? Why did he care? But really, Mike knew why. It was the same reason his little girl was slowly, painstakingly creating Bulwark. Because it was the right thing to do. Bloody hell. Who would have ever thought that joining forces with the Master could possibly be the right thing, under any circumstances?

And yet, that was exactly what happened. It wasn’t that hard, not really. No one recognized Koschei. Hell, most people only barely remembered Harry Saxon (who was, evidently, the previous incarnation of the Master). But before he escorted Koschei to the room which Lucas North inhabited for the last several months, Mike stared hard into the Time Lord’s eyes, and did something he would have never done with the Doctor: he made a demand. He demanded a promise from the supposedly-reforming Master that he was not here to harm Lucas North or any other human being.

Much to his surprise, Koschei nodded slowly and replied, ‘ _I actually expected this long before now, but that’s fine. I swear to you, by everything I’ve ever held dear, by each of my incarnations … I do not seek to harm Lucas North, or any other human being. Between the Year that Never Was, and Rassilon’s mock-attack on your world, I find that I have had quite enough of your planet, really_.’ Which begged the question of what he was doing here, but Mike didn’t care enough about that to ask.

And he hadn’t … harmed the boy, that is. Instead, from what Mike could gather, he actually helped the agent to wake up. According to Mike’s contacts, he was slowly regaining his strength (although his previous/future boss, Harry Pearce, still didn’t know that he’d regained consciousness). Mike didn’t envy the lad one bit. He had a long recovery to make, and only a very small part of that would be physical. The boy would have to learn to live with what he did and what was done to him.

So. Now, he had a Time Lord who was indebted to him. And Koschei, the Master, was indebted to Mike Yates. He not only stated it outright, but when Alicia made a demand of her own (‘ _put it in writing, or I won’t believe it_ ’), he actually wrote it down. If there was ever anything Mike needed, he had a particular number to call. Alicia frowned and observed that the number in question originated in Nevada. Mike chose not to ask his daughter how she knew that. There were some things he really didn’t need to know. That topped the list, along with details about his daughter’s love life.

As Mike turned his attention to his grandson’s latest project, he decided he would probably never use the phone number which Koschei gave to him. However, part of the ‘ _put it in writing_ ’ that Alicia insisted upon? A clause that said if Alicia, or any of Mike’s grandchildren, ever needed help, they could also use that number. That was what was really important … his children and grandchildren would have someone to go to after he was gone. He asked Drew, “So, you really think that people will use this website?”

The boy nodded so hard, Mike thought his head would come off his shoulders, answering, “I do! There are a lot of people who are into conspiracy theories and the Miracle made it harder for people to ignore weird stuff. My friend … my American friend, her mum says that after 9-11, a lot of people wanted to help, but they didn’t know how. I don’t see that this will be any different.” Mike swallowed the lump in his throat. What exactly did you say to that? And so, he focused on helping his grandson, whose fingers worked faster than his brain. It wouldn’t do for Bulwark’s website to have numerous misspellings.

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

 

He’d been unconscious for more than a year. He was never John Bateman. He was always Lucas North. No one died for more than two months … no one died. And really, he wasn’t entirely sure which of those revelations threw his world off-kilter the most. Well, there was also the matter of the Year that no one remembered, himself included. Almost no one remembered, he corrected himself, looking at the dozing figure of Malcolm Wynn-Jones to his left. Malcolm, who explained this topsy-turvy world he was reborn into … Malcolm, who hadn’t left his side except to attend to his own needs, despite the way Lucas behaved. He was a better friend than Lucas deserved, something the recovering spook could never allow himself to forget.

And he was recovering, in body at least. Most of his recovery at this point had more to do with physical therapy, and exercising muscles that atrophied while he was comatose, than actually recovering from his injuries. He was mostly healed from those, although he was subject to debilitating headaches. Malcolm seemed to think that had as much to do with the two sets of reality fighting for domination in his head as anything, and Lucas couldn’t argue with him. He still didn’t understand how this was possible, how any of this possible. Malcolm pointed out that during his conversation with Harry on the roof, right before he jumped (and oh, the disappointment in Malcolm’s eyes went straight to Lucas’ heart), Lucas told him that he and John Bateman looked like they could be brothers. Which they had.

But it was what Malcolm told him next that truly stopped his heart. The man who healed him, who called himself the Master … Maya and Edwards, they worked for him. Not at the time when they came back into his life, but during this Year that Malcolm mentioned more than once. And slowly, Lucas began putting the pieces together. He asked the questions he needed to, knowing that the answers would break his heart, and he was right. He was never truly John Bateman, those were merely false memories planted by this so-called Master? Yes … the real John Bateman died more than fifteen years earlier.

And his memory … his eidetic memory, which was sometimes more trouble than it was worth. But it was his memory, and it was part of him, and this Master … did something to it. He gave him false memories, made him think that he was a murderer and a terrorist. And for all that Lucas was grateful that he was alive (and he was grateful, as strange as that might sound), he was quite certain that he would never forgive the Master for doing that. He asked Malcolm, haltingly, if he remembered other things correctly. Malcolm frowned, and Lucas was forced to elaborate. Did he truly steal Albany, did he really kidnap Ruth?

Malcolm went still for a moment, before bowing his head, and that was all the answer Lucas needed. He felt sick. That explained so much. Including why Harry hadn’t come to see him. That prompted another revelation, which sent Lucas’ world to reeling. Again. Harry didn’t even know that he regained consciousness. He wasn’t ready to know, because Ruth was killed scant weeks after the Miracle ended … the same Miracle that prolonged Lucas’ life and gave him time to recover from his own life-threatening injuries. Lucas all but collapsed against his pillows, blinking back tears and trying very hard to convince himself and Malcolm that it was only the dust in the room.

The day after Lucas learned of Ruth’s death, a young woman appeared in his hospital room. She was very young and very lovely, with dark skin and a warm smile. At her side was a man, whom she introduced as her husband Mickey, and in his arms was their daughter … who, she admitted, still didn’t have a name. She introduced herself as Dr. Martha Jones-Smith, and she had encountered the Master as well. She wasn’t a psychologist or a psychiatrist, but she remembered the Year. Malcolm greeted her with a fierce hug that she returned in full, and that, more than anything prompted Lucas to trust her. There was a time when she was UNIT, but the mess with the children the year before Lucas spun out of control ended that. Now, she free-lanced with her husband … when they weren’t taking care of their daughter. Martha looked at Lucas speculatively, looked at the sleeping infant in her husband’s arms, and a crafty smile touched her lips. She plucked the baby from her husband’s embrace and neatly deposited her into Lucas’, ignoring the ‘oi!’ from both men. But it had the effect. Lucas began to talk.

He told her about the years he spent in a Russian prison, and about John Bateman. He told her about Maya, and Vyeta, about Ros and Ben and Connie and Adam. Lucas spoke of Ruth and Sarah, and most of all, he talked about Harry. Through it all, Martha kept silent … asking no questions, making no judgments. She just listened. Mickey listened, his eyes reflecting controlled fury, fierce compassion, and amusement by turns. And through it all, Lucas kept talking, cuddling the baby close.

Surprisingly, it was Mickey who said softly, “You’ve been through the wars, mate. But you made it through, you survived, and you want to know something I learned?” Lucas merely looked at the younger man, and Mickey leaned forward, indicating his sleeping daughter, “That little baby in your arms, she makes everything you went through … it’s worth it.” Lucas was on the point of snapping at the man, when he actually thought about what Mickey was saying. He wasn’t trying to be presumptuous. It might sound that way, but …

Lucas looked down at the sleeping bit of humanity in his arms. One tiny hand grasped the front of his hospital gown. He heard Mickey’s words again, only this time in a different way. What would you suffer to keep this helpless child safe? And the answer made his heart stop. Even though she wasn’t of his blood, even though he just met her this day, Lucas knew the answer. If it meant protecting this sweet child, if it meant keeping her safe, he would approach the Master and do it all over again. All of it. The eight years in prison, the Year aboard the Valiant.

He wasn’t even aware of the tears rolling down his face until Martha rose to her feet and cupped his face in her hands. She said softly, tenderly, “Let it out, Lucas. Let it all out.” She very carefully took her daughter from him, returning the still nameless baby to her father, and then she sat down on the bed beside Lucas. He found himself in her arms a breath later, his face buried against her neck and her arms wrapped tightly around his body.

There was so much he had to atone for. There were so many mistakes he made, even though he wasn’t really a murderer, even though he wasn’t really John Bateman. But he couldn’t atone, not until he was healed. Lucas wasn’t a fool. Whether Harry forgave him or not, he was done in MI5. They couldn’t trust him, not at any more, and in truth, he didn’t trust himself. He would have to find something else. But he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

When his tears were spent and Lucas was beyond exhausted, Martha eased him back against his pillows, letting him compose himself and clean himself up as she busied herself with seeing to the baby. After several moments, Martha returned to her side and told him softly, “You asked when I arrived why I came. Part of it is, as I said, because I have some idea of what you’re going through. Not exactly, no … but my own life isn’t what people consider normal. But there’s another reason. I know that Malcolm has told you about the Year. You don’t remember this, but the Master messed with your memories, because you stood up to him.”

The Master … Lucas stood up to him? Martha smiled at him warmly as she continued, “You did. He wanted to hurt a very dear friend of mine, a man who can’t stay dead.” There was a time, not so long ago, when Lucas would have been sure the young physician was taking the piss, but his own life kept being turned topsy-turvy. Martha continued, distracting him from that train of thought, “You know that Jack couldn’t stay dead, but you tried to protect him anyhow, and the Master didn’t take kindly to that.”

No, Lucas didn’t imagine he did. Martha went on, “My parents and sister were there when the Master created those false memories, and both Edwards and Maya were there at the time. They were there when he implanted the idea that you were John Bateman into your head. And Jack … when he returned to life, found out what you did …” Martha shook her head, obviously overcome with emotion as she whispered hoarsely, “What enrages me is that you will never know just how much of a hero you were to the people on the Valiant in those last days. You knew the Master wouldn’t react well to your interference, you knew that Jack would come back to life, and you still tried to protect him.”

“He’s always been a hero … even at his lowest points, he was still trying to protect those around him,” an achingly-familiar voice said from the doorway, and Lucas caught his breath. Footsteps sounded in the room and Malcolm looked up, obviously surprised. The newcomer continued, sounding wryly amused, “Did you really think I hadn’t noticed, Malcolm? The last few times we talked, you were far more chipper. I contacted the hospital two nights ago, and confirmed that Lucas was indeed awake. Congratulations, Dr. Jones-Smith … you actually got him to talk.”

Lucas couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t speak, and he certainly couldn’t face the man who was even now drawing level with his bed. Martha touched his face with a gentle smile, kissed his forehead, and then moved away, giving the newcomer her own seat on Lucas’ bed. Mickey wrapped his free arm around his wife’s shoulders, while Malcolm watched them both warily. What, exactly, he thought Lucas would be able to do to the other man, the younger agent had no idea. Then again, maybe he was afraid _for_ Lucas. That was entirely possible. Only fools underestimated this man. The bed dipped once more, and the newcomer sighed, “Look at me, please, Lucas. I think you owe me that, at least.”

He couldn’t quite keep back the bitter smile that crossed his lips at that. He owed this man far more than that, something that he knew entirely too well, and he rasped out as he raised his eyes to meet the other man’s, “I owe you far more than that, Harry. I just don’t know where to start.” Sir Harry Pearse offered him a sad smile, and Lucas whispered, “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry, for all of it. For Albany, for what I did to Ruth … for not trusting you.” Not surprisingly, he was rewarded with a small smile.

“I forgave you a long time ago, Lucas,” was the immediate response. Lucas felt the corners of his mouth quirk, because forgiveness wasn’t the same thing as trust, and well he knew that. Harry added, as if reading his mind, “No, trust isn’t the same thing as forgiveness … but it can return. It’ll take time, and work, but I’m willing to learn to trust you again.” Lucas swallowed hard and looked around for the glass of water which Malcolm poured for him earlier. His mouth was so dry. Harry located what he was looking for immediately and reached over, pressing it into his hand. Lucas drank gratefully.

“When I first came back … the first time, while I was pretending to be a double agent, Arkady told me that you wanted to trust me, that you longed to trust me,” Lucas said in a low voice and Harry nodded. It was, Lucas realized, just as much of an agreement as a confirmation. An agreement that Kachimov was right about that … and it was also a confirmation that it was as true now as it was when Lucas first returned to England, all those years ago. He released a breath, looked up at his boss and asked, “Where do I start?”

“You already have. You continue by talking to the therapist that I retained for you after I learned that you regained consciousness. And more importantly, you learn to forgive yourself. That was … you never forgave yourself, often for things that were out of your control. MI5 … Section D … that’s moved on. But … there may be something else for you. Your instincts, your skills, those are still sharp. It would be a shame to waste those,” Harry answered and Lucas nodded slowly. He knew, as soon as Malcolm began to fill him on … well, everything, that MI5 was lost to him. But if there was another way … if there was another way, he would listen and do what Harry asked of him.

Lucas nodded slowly and breathed out. He looked down at his lap, where his hands were folded, and then he looked back at his former boss. There were so many things that he wanted to say, so many things he should have said. But how, exactly, did you apologize for being alive when someone like Ruth Evershed was lost forever … when it wasn’t your choice? When it was a simple accident of fate? In the end, he fell back on the words he spoke years earlier when his legs were still unsteady after being confined to the boot of a car, “Hello, Harry.”

The other man recognized what he was doing, for his smile brightened ever so slightly, and he responded, as he did that night, “Welcome home, Lucas.” It wasn’t nearly what either man wanted to say … yet, at the same time, it was. Somehow, it was enough … enough to build upon. A new journey was about to begin for Lucas, and no one in that room had any idea where it would lead. But, at least he would be alive for that journey to take place.

 

TBC

 

Additional notes: I’ve never seen any Classic _Who_ episodes with Mike Yates, so I hope I did his character justice in this chapter. While he did appear in ‘ _The Five Doctors_ ,’ it was for no more than thirty seconds to a minute, and he wasn’t really there. It would be like me trying to write Romana from the bits she had in that same episode. Besides, the way I look at it, people change with time … I’m not the same person I was even two years ago, much less decades. So, Mike at seventy or eighty would likely be different than he was at thirty or forty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never seen any Classic Who episodes with Mike Yates, so I hope I did his character justice in this chapter. While he did appear in ‘The Five Doctors,’ it was for no more than thirty seconds to a minute, and he wasn’t really there. It would be like me trying to write Romana from the bits she had in that same episode. Besides, the way I look at it, people change with time … I’m not the same person I was even two years ago, much less decades. So, Mike at seventy or eighty would likely be different than he was at thirty or forty.


	6. To Love Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John contemplates his new life; Mary takes tentative steps toward reconciling with her husband; while Lucas receives a *very* unexpected job offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, we come to the end of ‘After the Rain.’ As I stated before, it’s very important that you pay attention to the additional notes at the end of the epilogue, regarding the next story, ‘Dite’s Favor.’ Those warnings will be included at the beginning of ‘Dite’s Favor’ as well. I actually already have it started, but will probably not start posting it until after the first of the year. I want to finish up ‘Days of Reckoning’ in my ‘Themes and Variations’ series, we’re ramping up for commencement at work, and I leave for Italy on December 26th. I doubt if I’ll take my laptop with me. It’s possible, but I really do doubt it. I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride!

Colasanto Compound, Nevada

The Following Week

 

 

It was quiet with Koschei in England … a good kind of quiet, although he kinda missed the guy (not that he would ever admit it aloud. Hell, no! Suzie would never let him hear the end of it!). John went on his patrols with Artie, learning more about the Miracle than he ever wanted to know (how Artie survived his tour as bodyguard to that scumbag Oswald Danes without making the bastard Category Zero ahead of schedule, John would never know). And when Artie and John weren’t doing their rounds, Artie was teaching John about the most recent technological advances … of which there were many.

As to the others … that tended to vary from day to day with Jacob and Tosh. Mary, on the other hand … Mary more or less kept to her room, especially after her most recent blow-out with Suzie (and John really wasn’t sure why his wife continued to antagonize Suzie. Wasn’t she supposed to be the smart one between the two of them? And really, why did Suzie let her get to her? Another great mystery of life, he supposed). On good days, the two avoided each other, but on bad days … on bad days, John’s main concern wasn’t with his wife, but with protecting Ianto, Tosh and Jacob from being caught in the crossfire. He wasn’t entirely sure what that said about him. He also wasn’t sure if that mattered any more.

The Marine did a quick check in his mind of the others in the house (or on this part of the property, rather). Rassilon had shooed Jacob and Tosh out of the house earlier, and Artie was escorting them on a tour of the property. He wasn’t entirely sure where Ianto was … maybe going over the accounts with Suzie. John Winchester sighed quietly as he sat back in the recliner which he claimed as his own in the library. Truthfully, when it was finally time for them to leave for England, he would probably miss Ianto the most, which surprised him. Then again, just about everything about his new life surprised him, including his odd friendship with Ianto Jones. Then again, John thought, that should probably be ‘especially,’ rather than ‘including.’

He would enjoy the time he had with the young man, because according to Rassilon, the trio would be leaving for England by the end of the month. There was a minor issue to be worked out, one that had nothing to do with Alicia Yates’ unruly kids and everything to do with the reason Koschei was in England. The junior Time Lord, who was even better at pissing people off than John was, was making amends with a previous victim. The aforementioned previous victim would be staying with Alicia and her family while he finished recuperating from taking a swan dive off the top of a nine-story building. John started to ask how he managed to survive that, and then remembered how he came to have this new body. Poor kid. That had to suck.

According to Rassilon, Alicia had two daughters and a son … three women and one man, at least that was the current count. But with the arrival of the trio, plus this other kid (John thought Rassilon said that his name was Lucas), that brought the count to four women and four men. Oh, he liked those odds! John smiled to himself and returned his attention to the book he was reading. It wasn’t about demons or other supernatural beings. No, this was a travel book, about the part of England where he would be living. John snorted quietly … Bobby would never let him live this down, if he said that. His smile slowly faded, as he wondered if the other Hunter was still alive, or if their lifestyle ended up killing him. He wondered briefly if he should ask Rassilon, then decided that it wasn’t a good idea. It wasn’t because he didn’t care, but because the ancient Time Lord could be a bit … squirrelly.

It was one thing to ask about his boys … that was something Rassilon understood. As the days turned to weeks, he became far more likely to talk about his son. John enjoyed those conversations … he loved hearing about other people’s children, and Rassilon was more than happy to share stories about his son. If he was in a particularly puckish mood, he’d tell the most embarrassing stories about Jack that he could recall (garnered, John guessed, from his former co-workers, or maybe even Jack himself … based on what Ianto told him, if Jack wasn’t the least self-conscious person in the world, then he was definitely in the top five).

However, Bobby was another story, and the more John watched Rassilon, the more he thought he figured it out. Rassilon had very, very, very few friends. Not that John had all that many, but he still had more than Rassilon did, and he lived a very, very, very small fraction of the time Rassilon did. There was Koschei, but really, he was more of a lieutenant than an actual friend. He heard references to the Doctor, Koschei’s best enemy, and while there were incarnations of the Doctor whom Rassilon did consider to be his friend, the same couldn’t be said of all. True, he had Tosh, Ianto, and Suzie, but they were more like his children (or grandchildren many times many over). He had almost no friends. And really, when all was said and done, John found that more than a little sad. He …

He was startled, when a soft, feminine voice asked, intruding on his reverie, “Mind a bit of company while the kids are out playing, Marine?” John’s head jerked up so fast, it was a wonder that he didn’t break a few vertebrae … because there, standing before him in a pair of light-weight pajamas, holding a book and offering a shy smile, was his wife. Mary smiled at him shyly and said, “Suzie is out of the house, and I didn’t feel like lazing in my room. Hoped you wouldn’t mind having a little company.”

_Mind … mind having a little company_? John was so thoroughly stunned by this turn of events, he was unable to actually use his voice. Instead, his trembling hands waved Mary to one, to any of the chairs that made the library so comfortable. Her smile brightened and she murmured, “Thanks.” She chose the chair John thought she would select, a rocking chair that reminded John so very much of the one in the boys’ nursery. John returned his attention to his book. He caught himself reading the same passage five and six times, until slowly he became more aware of what he was reading, and less of the lovely blonde woman sitting nearby.

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

Well. That was promising … he hadn’t left the room when she joined him. He also was distracted, which was equally promising. And unless she missed her guess (which she didn’t think she did), he was checking out her legs. Well, yes, she was wearing pajamas, rather than a nightgown, but she deliberately chose these pajamas for the way the fabric clung to her body. There was something to be said for subtlety. John wouldn’t believe that she was trying to reconcile or seduce him at this point.

Of course, he eventually became engrossed in his book again. A quick glance as she passed informed her that he was reading a book about England. Mary felt a quick burst of affection. Of course he was reading about England, he wanted to know what to expect. Being ignorant as a Hunter was a really good way to get yourself killed. Well, really when she thought about it, being ignorant was a really good way to get yourself killed, whether you were a Hunter or not. Mary smiled to herself and tucked her feet up under her body, opening her own book. It was one that Tosh loaned to her. The pretty tech was something of a cipher to Mary … she was incredibly smart when it came to technology, and not so surprisingly to the Hunter, quite shy around most people. She would have expected Tosh to enjoy romances or cyberpunk novels (something which she knew Jacob enjoyed). However, it turned out that Tosh loved murder mysteries, and she was apparently developing a taste for Westerns. Who’d have thought?

However, Tosh gave her a Carol Higgins Clark book that she picked up in town, and Mary herself happily accepted. As a young girl, Mary had loved the books of Carol Higgins Clark’s mother, and looked forward to seeing if the daughter was as good as the mother. Although, she seriously doubted if she would get any reading done. She was actually more interested in reading her husband at the moment … the book was just a prop.

Although, right now, it actually looked more like he was in danger of falling asleep. He did that when the boys were small too … Mary couldn’t count the number of times when she found her husband asleep in the recliner in front of the television set, often with Dean curled up on his lap. Mary blinked back tears at the memory of her older son sleeping against his father’s chest, John’s protective arm draped around the little boy. She caught her breath, because the image was so very clear, so very vivid.

And then, John moved … he wasn’t asleep after all. Mary cleared her throat, drawing his attention briefly, and Mary said the first thing that popped into her head to open the conversation, “Why do you sometimes call Jacob ‘Castiel,’ anyhow?”  She wasn’t prepared for the sheepish grin that lit her husband’s face or the way he ducked his head a bit. The gestures went straight to her heart, and her breath caught in her throat. Only days after she arrived in this place and learned what happened, Mary also learned that her meeting and eventual marriage to John was no accident, that they were in fact pushed together by the machinations of both heaven and hell. It left her questioning her feelings toward her husband. But the flutter in her chest at John’s expression … that wasn’t due to heaven or hell at all.

“Jacob is, physically speaking, a twin to our Dean’s best friend Castiel,” John answered. Mary perked up, because of course she wanted to hear more about her sons! And then it occurred to her. He said that this Castiel was Dean’s best friend. Was he named for the Angel of Thursday? It would embarrass her for years to come that the daughter of a Hunter didn’t put the pieces together herself. John added, his dark eyes dancing with mischief, “Well, honey, you did always tell Dean that angels were watching over him. I guess you never imagined that would be the case even after he was an adult.”

Well, of course … _wait, what_? John’s impish smile broadened as he nodded, explaining, “Dean’s best friend is an angel. From what Rassilon told me during our conversations about our respective sons, he’s a bad-ass, socially-inept angel.” Mary sat back in the rocking chair a bit heavily, shaking her head in wonderment. Her little boy … counted an angel as his best friend. John continued softly, “Oh, it hasn’t always been sunshine and rainbows. They’ve both screwed up royally … as in, world-ending screw up. But somehow …”

He smiled faintly, and Mary observed softly, “And that’s why you’ve looked after Jacob since we arrived. You couldn’t thank Cas for looking after Dean, so you’re looking after his physical twin in his place.” She had no idea why she shortened the angel’s name the way she did. It just felt right to call him ‘Cas.’ He was taking care of her son (probably both of her sons, if she knew Dean nearly as well as she thought she did), and that made him family. John bobbed his head, still smiling faintly.

“Exactly. Bobby Singer … one of my former Hunting partners and one of the few people I trusted with our boys … he always used to say that family didn’t end with blood. Castiel may not be human, but he’s still family,” John answered, unconsciously echoing what Mary just thought. He offered her a rueful smile, adding, “Besides, at this point, I think that making a deal or otherwise doing something incredibly stupid for the benefit of others should make a person an honorary Winchester.” Mary grinned back and John returned his attention to his book, still smiling. Throughout her life, Mary would find herself doing things just because they felt right. This was to be one of those times.

Mary rose to her feet and crossed to John’s side, sitting on the desk in front of his chair. It was Rassilon’s desk, but somehow, she didn’t think he would mind if she sat on it … just this once. She said quietly, “I’m sorry.” That startled him into looking up at her, and Mary repeated, “I’m sorry. For all of it. I’m not sorry for saving you, because even if you piss me off on occasion … I’m not sorry for saving you. But for the rest … for leaving you and the boys without any way to protect you from a world you didn’t know exist, I’m beyond sorry.”

John sighed and put the book to one side, murmuring, “I’m sorry, too, Mare. I knew I could have been a better father to the boys. I…” But Mary leaned forward, putting her fingers over his lips in the classic ‘shhh’ gesture. She’d been thinking about this nonstop during the last few days, ever since her most recent conversation with Rassilon, and she came to terms with a few painful truths during that time. Maintaining both eye contact and lip contact with her husband, Mary decided what she had to say.

“You kept them alive, John. Do I wish you cuddled them more, hugged the more, ruffled their hair? Do I wish you’d been less of a drill sergeant? Of course I do. Do I wish that Dean and Sam could have grown up in our house, could have had a normal childhood? Of course I do. But from the moment that blood entered our baby boy’s mouth, a normal childhood was out of the question for both of them. The demons would have never stopped coming after them, and that is on me. Not you,” Mary said firmly. She paused for a moment, before adding, “It’s why I don’t understand why you left Adam and his mother so vulnerable.”

“I didn’t believe they’d be a target. I know, stupid of me, but I never truly believed that they’d be a target, I thought they’d be safe. Now, my baby is …” John began, but could go no further. He didn’t have to, though, as Adam’s very existence was something Rassilon covered in his initial briefing, and oh, at the time Mary was so very angry with him for fathering another child on another woman! His voice was tight, as from unshed tears, and Mary surged forward, putting her hands on his shoulders. She tried to think of a way to tell him that even now, the Time Weavers were seeking a way to save Adam. It wouldn’t surprise Mary if she were to be told that Rassilon and Ianto Jones were working together on that project.

In the end, she said softly, “Adam’s fate hasn’t been sealed, and there is still hope. For his soul, if not for his body.” She thought of how many shells of bodies were in this world after the Abomination called the Miracle. How hard would it be to find a young man’s body? That was, of course, assuming that Adam’s soul could be tethered to a new body … or if it was too cruel, given what the boy already went through. John looked up at her hopefully, and Mary acknowledged, “I don’t know anything for certain … just whispers. And we both knew what they’re worth.” She was rewarded with a trace of a smile.

She said again, “I’m sorry. I want …” But Mary’s voice trailed off, because what did she want? For the first time, she really thought about what that meant. What did she want? More to the point, who was she now? Now, nearly thirty years after her death, after her final battle with the demon who murdered her parents ended so badly? Did she even know who Mary Campbell Winchester was now? And the answer to that last question was an unequivocal ‘no.’ No, she had no idea who she was now, and really, before she did anything else, including travel to England, shouldn’t she figure that out?

It seemed that John was thinking the same thing, because he put his hand over hers, warm brown eyes focusing on only her, and said softly, “Why don’t we start with coffee, and see how things go from there? You aren’t the girl I married, and I’m not the young Marine you remember. We’ve both changed, Mary, we’ve both changed, and we have to get to know each other, all over again.” Mary blinked at him, because that was the last thing she expected him to say. He smiled at her impishly, then stuck his hand out as he said, “I’m John Winchester. Nice to meet you.”

Oh. He wanted to play it that way, did he? Well, two could play at that game! Mary slipped her hand inside his, replying, “I’m Mary Campbell Winchester … pleasure is entirely mine.” John’s smile brightened, and Mary had the sense that somehow, they would muddle their way through this, just as they would have if they’d had the chance to raise their two boys. Would things necessarily be ‘okay’ into the end? There would be good and bad days. But this new relationship was being built on truth, not lies, not omissions … their second chance was already off to a better start. John whispered something under his breath, something about ‘ _only after the rain, can you love again_.’ It sounded like poetry or maybe song lyrics. Mary couldn’t wait to find out, couldn’t wait to learn.

 

 

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

 

London, England

Same Day 

 

Lucas North went through many kinds of hell during the course of his relatively short life. Granted, some of it he didn’t remember (the Year that Never Was), and some he remembered painfully well (the eight years), but it could be safely argued that he endured some hellish ordeals. Given all that, you wouldn’t have expected him to be nervous (much less anxious) to be meeting with an eighty-six year old woman. And, if she had been any other eighty-six year old woman, he probably wouldn’t be on the verge of a panic attack. But this was the Queen, certainly not just any eighty-six year old woman!

Harry told him that her Majesty wanted to thank him … Lucas still wasn’t sure what he did that would warrant a ‘ _thank you_ ’ from her Majesty, although Malcolm indicated that it had to do with Lucas’ actions during the Year. And really, he wasn’t supposed to know that he was meeting the Queen … that was supposed to be a surprise … but he probably didn’t leave them much choice. But then, how could he help but be curious when so much work was put into making him look human again?

And so, he was sitting beside Harry, trying very hard not to fidget. He was twitching nearly as badly as he did when Ros zapped him. Harry murmured, “I would tell you to relax, Lucas, but I’m quite sure that I’d be wasting my breath. It’ll be fine. Would I be wasting my breath to ask you to trust me?” Lucas glared at him, but dropped his gaze with a sigh when it met Harry’s mild expression. His former boss added, “I see. It isn’t a matter of trust for you, is it?” The younger man shook his head slowly.

“No. It isn’t. Harry, I betrayed this country when I took Albany. Even if I was working under false premises, that truth doesn’t change. And now, I’m being taken before the Queen, so she can thank me for actions I don’t remember taking? Actions that technically never happened?” Lucas asked, raising an eyebrow at his former boss. He could tell from Harry’s expression that this was something the other man never considered. Surprising. Harry had to consider the big picture, far more than Lucas did.

“Her Majesty is fully aware of your previous actions, Mr. North,” came the voice of the third member of their little party. Lucas turned his attention to the man in the front seat, a man who looked vaguely familiar to the former MI5 agent, although he couldn’t place him. He looked to be slightly younger than Harry, with graying hair and bright blue eyes. And those eyes … they looked far too old for his face. Lucas shuddered, and the man smiled at him gently, adding, “She is fully aware, and she believes in second chances. Not everyone does.”

Harry’s expression as he looked at the other man could be best described as frosty as he said, “Indeed.” Now Lucas was even more uncomfortable, sensing an undercurrent between the two men. The man whose name Lucas didn’t know didn’t look away from Harry, but at the same time, Harry didn’t look away either. And when Harry did finally look away, it was to turn his attention to Lucas saying, “Do you remember when I came to your room in hospital, and we talked about finding you a place? Her Majesty wishes to speak with you about that. She is creating a position, and she believes you would be an excellent fit once you recover.”

“And before you ask, Lucas North … her Majesty does, indeed, have the authority to create such a position. Her ancestress created the organization in question, and the Crown is the ultimate authority where it’s concerned,” the unknown man said. If anything, Harry’s expression grew even icier and more and more, Lucas was realizing that he was in over his head where these two men were involved. The gray-haired man looked back at Harry, observing, “You’ve never forgiven me for that, have you, Sir Harry?”

“Nor will I ever, especially now that Malcolm has told me the truth about that Year,” was Harry’s cold response. The other man actually flinched, and Lucas fought every instinct he possessed to cram himself into the corner of the car. But even now, Harry could read him too well, and he added, “But I will take that up with at a later date. Lucas reminded me of our first meeting upon his return from England, recently. So I will tell you what I told Arkady Kachimov during that meeting. Lucas has suffered enough, I think.” The man inclined his gray head and turned back around. In spite of himself, Lucas found himself breathing a little easier. Harry murmured, “I apologize, Lucas. I shouldn’t have put you in the middle of that. As you’ve probably guessed, we have a history.”

Lucas opened his mouth to speak, even though he had no idea what to say, and then closed it as Harry continued, “And here we are. The most important thing for you to do during the next few minutes, Lucas? Just keep breathing. Keep putting one foot in front of the other, and keep breathing.” _Easier said than done_ , Lucas thought a bit numbly, but did as he was told. He focused on breathing and on putting one foot in front of the other, allowing Harry and his unexpected antagonist to take care of the protocols and the niceties. It was foolish, after all. Not like getting caught in a rainstorm or dealing with another trigger, but his anxieties were still coming out in full force, and he needed a focus.

Before he quite knew what was happening, Lucas was being brought before her Majesty, and bowed before her. More pleasantries were exchanged, and the strange man whom Harry so despised took a seat near the Queen. As ever, Harry knew what he was about. Her Majesty did, indeed, create a position. It wasn’t MI5 … in some ways, it seemed, it would include a far wider scope. She wanted him to become the MI5 liaison to Torchwood. Lucas knew, of course, about Torchwood. Everyone in MI5 did, especially after the incident with the 456. Some blamed the head of Torchwood Cardiff for the lives lost in Thames House that day. Lucas wasn’t one of them. He was far more inclined to blame the spineless politicians than the one man who was willing to stand up to the bastards.

Her Majesty said quietly, “We will _not_ permit such a thing to happen again. Those who claim to be loyal servants of this realm made sure that Captain Harkness could not reach us. Worse yet, they made it impossible for him to do his job! That is where you come in, Lucas North. Torchwood was recently reborn from the ashes of the Miracle. If you will accept the position of liaison between MI5 and Torchwood, you will continue your recuperation in the home of Miss Alicia Yates, who is creating a network called Bulwark. You will assist her with the creation of that network, and when you are fully healed, you will travel to Scotland to Torchwood Two in Edinburgh, and receive your cross-training from our man there.”

Lucas thought a moment about the consequences of saying _no_ … before he realized that he didn’t _want_ to say no. He had no idea if this liaising was even practical, but her Majesty was right about one thing. The black ops team that MI5 didn’t acknowledge … that couldn’t happen again.   Harry murmured, as if hearing his thoughts, “Those responsible have been dealt with, Lucas. I promise you _that_.” That iciness was back in Harry’s voice, and while Lucas knew that Harry himself probably hadn’t dealt out the consequences, he was either there when it happened or was told by an unimpeachable source when it was done.

The unknown man (and Lucas still hadn’t figured out why he was here) added gently, “If you say ‘ _no_ ,’ Lucas, then that’s fine. If it weren’t for Jack Harkness, I’d say let the entire organization burn.” It was, Lucas sensed, the absolute worst thing he could have said. The temperature in the room dropped to below freezing. Both Harry and her Majesty were glowering at the man, who continued after a moment, “My point is, this is your decision, and you mustn’t expect to be punished if you decide that this isn’t what you want.”

“No, indeed. You will _not_ be punished. But, we truly believe you are the perfect person for the job,” her Majesty said, still looking extremely put-out. She focused her attention entirely on Lucas, adding, “We must have you understand this, Lucas. Your life will change, beyond all imagination. The world that you thought you knew will no longer exist. In truth, it never did. What you will see has always been there. The world has not changed … your perception, and your place in that world, has. Are you strong enough to take that risk? I ask that not as your Queen, but as a woman who wants to see her friend surrounded by good, loyal people.”

“I’d like the chance to find out, your Majesty,” Lucas said honestly. Ever since he woke up and Malcolm filled him in on the events that happened while he was unconscious, Lucas had been longing to do something. So many hurts had been taken by his country and his world while he was comatose. He was given a second chance, and Lucas had no intention of wasting it. He was apprehensive about this new world that he was stepping into, but at the same time …

At the same time, he felt more alive than he had in a long time. And apparently, ‘I’d like the chance to find out’ was exactly the answer that most pleased her Majesty, because she smiled. Seven words. Seven words was all it took to change his life, and set his feet on a road that he never even knew was open to him, never even knew existed. The man who accompanied them to Buckingham Palace added, “Her Majesty is quite correct, saying that your life will change beyond all imagination. You have already seen the horrors of humanity. That, at least, won’t be a surprise to you. But there is so much more out there.”

Lucas finally had enough of this mysterious man, who Harry so obviously despised, and asked, “Forgive me, but who exactly _are_ you? You’re obviously familiar with Torchwood, and with both of its remaining directors, but who are you?” He didn’t mention his former mentor’s patent dislike for him, or the queen’s just-as-obvious displeasure at his comments about Torchwood. He really didn’t think it was necessary. And the strange man smiled, his eyes lighting up as if Lucas’ question pleased him greatly.

“Oh, I’ve been known by many names, my lad. But you can call me the Doctor!”

 

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first … yes, that was Twelve making an appearance. I didn’t plan on him showing up … he just decided that he was needed. I don’t know about you, but I tend to listen to the Doctor about such things. So, we begin with one Time Lord and end with another, with a third in the middle (Koschei, get your mind out of the gutter). To any British readers I might have, I hope I did justice to Queen Elizabeth. In truth, I’m *really* not comfortable writing real people, but it’s something of a necessity since the Crown is the ultimate head of Torchwood. Secondly, Mary hears John reciting song lyrics, which are also the source of the title of this fic. The song is ‘After the Rain’ by Nelson, from the album of the same name (and John actually got the lyrics wrong, but we won’t hold that against him). It sticks in my mind that the song and album came out in the late eighties or early nineties, but I’m not one hundred percent sure. Now. In the previous chapter, I mentioned a warning. I will do this again at the beginning of ‘Dite’s Favor,’ but I like to cover all bases. The summary for ‘Dite’s Favor’ is as follows, ‘sooner or later, we are all held accountable for our actions. For Gwen Cooper, that time is now.’ General translation, this story will not be even remotely Gwen-friendly. So. If you’re a Gwen fan, you have been warned. I appreciate that Gwen has her fans. What I do not appreciate and will not tolerate is Gwen fans throwing a hissy because I write her the way I see her. I don’t troll pro-Gwen stories and harass those authors. I ask for the same respect in turn. End of warning. See you when ‘Dite’s Favor’ debuts in January, for those who are interested.


End file.
